Living in the Sun
by Knackard
Summary: Did you find it odd that Stephanie Meyer took four books to tell a story that could have fit into one? Disappointed when the plots of the later books boiled down to "Nothing happened. Then, more nothing."? Would you like to know what makes vampire erections possible? Then read on! Prior reading of Long Long Long helpful but not required. Not anti-Twilight, just a little fixit fic.
1. Some Options Aren't Options

*******This story is not anti-_Twilight_. Whatever I say in my A/Ns, this story will never become anti-_Twilight_. **

* * *

Funny thing about falling in love for the first time, you sort of fall in love with everyone and everything in the world, not just one person. At least, it happened that way with me. When I first moved to Forks in my Junior year of highschool, everything about it was a thing I hated: the weather, the lack of sunlight, the drippy inbred townspeople who walked the in the footprints of their parents, their grandparents, their great-grandparents. Nobody ever left and nothing ever happened, and the sun never shone.

I loved Forks now. I loved the cozy, familial atmosphere of the inhabitants. I loved the misty gray-greens that formed a backdrop for this sleepy, haunted town. I loved my school. I loved my friends. I loved my surly, quiet father. I no longer minded that the sun came out infrequently—after all, that made the days when it _did_ shine more exciting than Christmas.

And of course, I loved Edward—oh, my Edward. My floppy-haired, sweet-eyed boy with the enigmatic smile and the deliciously (sometimes alarmingly) twisted past. Loving him had unlocked some door deep inside me, allowed me to see the good in everything. When I first came out to live with my dad in this one-horse town, I'd have given almost anything for a reason to stay away. Now you couldn't _pay_ me to leave. I was a fucking convert.

Right now, even through my closed eyelids I could tell that the sun was shining, _and_ it was Christmas—the Forks double-whammy. Okay, not Christmas _Day_. But this was my last day of classes before my winter break, the end of my penultimate semester in highschool, and I couldn't wait to get midterms out of the way so I could dedicate myself more fully to my favorite pastime: making out with Edward Cullen. Speaking of which...

"Wake up, Sleepybella," came a singsong voice through my dreamy ruminations. "Don't want to miss exams, do you?" I opened my eyes slowly, luxuriating in the sunshine. Edward smushed hs face up against my neck and nuzzled until I giggled and squirmed out of reach. Then, thinking better of it, I curved my hand behind his neck and brought him closer for a proper wake-up kiss. His eyes were pale yellow this morning. I could have sworn they were brown last night.

"Did you go out to eat?" I asked him, sitting up.

"Mm hmm," he murmured. "All full."

"Where'd you go?" I asked, getting out of bed and stretching. We were talking quietly, knowing that Charlie still hadn't left for work and that Edward wasn't _technically_ supposed to spend most nights keeping me company in my room.

"Rosalie's volunteering at a couple of animal shelters in Seattle, on days when she doesn't have class," said Edward. "They're kill shelters. She brings home the animals that're due for euthanization. We bury them in the wilderness after we've emptied them."

Somehow, even though I was used to the fact that Edward needed his food still kicking, this brought me up short. I knew it was better this way: if they were eating rejected strays from the admittedly over-crowded kill shelters, they weren't straining local populations of deer and wolves and bears. Still, it could be a hard thing to stomach.

"Sometimes I miss the days when we could go out, run down a mountain lion and just eat one or two," said Edward. I honestly couldn't tell if he was joking or not. "I know this is better for everyone, but it takes a lot of stray cats to fill me up."

"Redacted." I said. "I've decided I need to wait till I've had my own breakfast before I hear about yours."

"Sorry," said Edward, kissing me. "I should get going anyway. I'll see you at school?"

"You bet, handsome," I said, swatting his tight little butt as he passed.

Edward kissed me one last time and left as he'd come, through the window.

* * *

I didn't worry about my exams. Alice had offered to give me a preview of the questions I would face, but I'd declined the offer. Even so, it wasn't difficult for me to ace almost everything, given how many hours I'd spent at the Cullen house studying. Even accounting for all the making-out breaks we took, Edward and I shared a love of learning. And if I didn't do so well on my Calculus final, I more than made up for it in English.

After school, both Jessica and Angela came over to work on college applications and hang out. They were applying to universities in California and Oregon, but I'd decided to stay in Forks and attend community college in Seattle for two years before transferring to a university. Edward was aghast at my decision, but I ignored his protestations that his family could easily afford to send me to a "real" college. My sense of pride wouldn't allow me to lean so heavily on my boyfriend's family for money, even though they could afford it. And Charlie didn't make enough to send me anywhere fancy for four years; two would have to do.

Over a tub of Nutella ice cream, Jessica griped at us about how her boyfriend Mike was acting like—surprise!—a teenage boy. I had to admit, although dating Edward Cullen had its fair share of pitfalls, none of them included teenagery dickishness. I guess that's one perk of dating an immortal.

The next day, I went over to the Cullen place for a little end-of-classes/pre-Christmas party Alice had arranged. Even Emmett and Rosalie had returned from their first semester at UDub, to spend the holidays with their family. Emmett joked around with me for a while, but Rosalie kept to herself, as always. Unlike Esme and Alice, she'd never warmed to me. Edward tried to convince me that her behavior was rooted in some personal history that had nothing at all to do with me, but I couldn't help feeling like I'd done something to turn her away. I found Rosalie Hale unbelievably fascinating. She was beautiful in exactly the way that is most acceptable in the Western world—creamy skin; luscious, trim, feminine figure; flowing shiny golden hair, the whole nine—but there was always a faint aura of otherworldiness about her. Aesthetically, she looked like she should fit in anywhere, be accepted by anyone. But she acted like a very convincing alien trying to fit in on planet Earth. Then again, maybe I was the only one who saw that. Any time I tried to explain it to Jess or Ange, they looked at me like I was crazy. They only saw her beauty, but I saw something intense and a little frightening underneath.

Oddly enough, although Alice was the one who looked like a fairy from the other side of the looking-glass, she was also the one who most effortlessly put people at their ease. She had invited a few people from school to enjoy punch and cookies and listen to music. She flitted around from person to person, her tinkling laugh the engine that kept us all cheerful even in the short days and low sunlight of a Washington State Christmas. Afterward, I offered to stay behind and help clear up—but that was no more than an excuse to eke out another hour or two in this house, surrounded by these people. It felt like a second home to me, just as much mine as the house I had long since ceased to think of merely as "Charlie's place".

After such a relaxing, pleasant afternoon, I forgot I was in a den of vampires and grew careless. Leaving the bathroom, I caught my hand in the door and ripped half the nail off my pinky finger. Before I could even yelp in pain, everything went into overdrive: Jasper, who had been sitting with Alice on the couch, sprinted at me with an insane growl emitting from his mouth. Edward got to me first and swung me out of the way, but he needn't have bothered, because Alice, resolutely holding her breath, tackled Jasper through a wall. The whole thing had taken about two seconds.

"Come on," said Edward, breathing heavily. "Let's go." He took my other hand and led me out to his car. We sat there quietly for a couple of minutes before Edward steadied himself enough to put the car in gear and back out of the driveway.

"Are you okay?" I asked him, putting as much pressure on the nailbed as I could without crying in pain. "Is the smell...should I get out?"

Edward looked over at me and smiled tensely. "No," he said. "I can handle _that_ just fine. And if it gets too hard, I know how to counter it." He clucked his tongue at me.

"So which part aren't you handling so well?" I asked.

"This is the third time I've seen it," he said. "In Alice's mind. A vision of your death. I'm getting pretty tired of it, I can tell you."

"Oh," I said quietly. "Well, um...what should we do? Should I stop coming around?"

"I don't know," said Edward miserably. "I hate this. I know Jas doesn't want to hurt you; he'd never forgive himself if he did. Most of the time he catches it in time to get out of the way. I mean, this ain't his first rodeo, as he would say. No high school is going to be completely free of papercuts and hangnails, and he's gotten quite good at extracting himself from these situations before they become dangerous. But your blood…"

"Let me guess," I said drily, "it 'sings' to him too?" That was how Carlisle had described it: my blood sang to Edward. That was what caused him such unbearable pain when I was near. Pain he endured willingly enough; but I still had a guilt complex about it.

"Not as loudly as to me," said Edward, "but still plenty loud, and his resistance is lower than mine; and besides, _he's_ not in love with you. I don't know. I don't know what to do."

"Edward," I said hesitantly, "isn't this exactly the sort of thing that would be fixed if I just became like you? I mean, would it be the worst thing in the world, if one of you bit me? Then you _couldn't_ hurt me. No one could. I would be safe, then." This wasn't the first time I had made the argument. But Edward's answer was always the same.

"That's not really a viable solution to our problems," he said heavily. "There'd be no going back for you, Bella. And trust me, living like this is harder than living as a human. You don't want this."

"Yeah," I said, "but think about it. How much older than you do you think I really want to get? I...I don't see this ending any time soon. At least, if it does, _I_ won't be the one to end it." I looked at my finger, which was now turning purple from the restricted blood-flow. The sight of the torn-off nail turned my stomach, but not as much as the thought of what would happen if Edward dumped me. I guess that's a fear everyone has when they fall in love for the first time. Strange, how new this still felt after a year together. Or perhaps, not new but fresh, like flowers still growing in the ground, changing but never wilting.

"Bella," said Edward gently, and his hand entered my field of vision, covered my trembling fingers and held them tightly. "I will never, ever leave you. Not unless you ask me to. And even then, I will never want you any less, no matter what. Vampires don't change. This isn't an empty promise. I will never change." He said it simply, quietly. And I believed him. I always believed him.

"Well, neither will I," I said. "Not about this. I'm not saying I want you to take a bite this second, but...I don't want to lose you, Edward. Not now, not in eighty years when I die of old age. And we need to think about, you know, the reality of—"

"We're here," Edward said flatly, looking out the window. I shut my mouth, feeling hurt that he wouldn't even hear me out. But then I followed his eyeline and realized what it was he was looking at.

"Ah," I said, looking at the black Ford parked in front of my house. Two figures were huddled out of the rain, sheltering on my porch. I was glad to see one of them—Jake, the taller of the two, and the only one on his feet. His father Billy, on the other hand—it seemed we never crossed paths without him giving me a worried scowl, and it wouldn't help for him to see me climbing out of Edward Cullen's BMW. Not that I could avoid that now…

"See you tomorrow," I muttered, giving Edward a harried kiss goodbye. I covered my head with my backpack and rushed through the downpour to the porch.

"Hey Jake," I said, digging in my pocket for my key. "Hello, Billy."

"Bella," said Billy gravely, nodding his head once in greeting.

"Hey Bella," said Jacob, much more eagerly than his father. "Here, let me help you with that—"

"Girl can unlock her own damn door, son," said Billy gruffly. Jake stepped back sheepishly. I didn't like hearing Billy embarrass his son in front of people, even if it was unintentional and the people were only me. I felt weirdly protective of Jacob, who was only sixteen and one of my best friends. So as soon as Jake had wheeled Billy into my living room, I made a point of giving him an extra-tight hello hug.

"You guys want anything?" I asked. "Coffee? Tea? It's turning cold..."

"Just in time for Christmas," said Jake. "Hey, you should come to the rez now that you're out of school. I had my last class Friday—"

"Jake, I just remembered I left that picture of Becca in the car," interrupted Billy. "The one I brought to show Charlie. Run out and grab it, will ya?"

"Oh," said Jacob, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah, sure. Be right back." He darted back out into the rain, letting the screen door slam behind him.

"Okay, Billy," I said wearily. "Let's have it. Why are you really here?"

"I know that Cullen kid is your boyfriend, and I can only assume you think you know him, but you need to take more care," he said abruptly. "The Cullens are bad news, Bella. You need to be careful how close you get to them."

"I know exactly what you're talking about," I said. Billy's eyes widened. "Billy, come on. I've been with Edward for over a year. Do you really think I don't know...everything you know?" Billy shrugged.

"I hoped," he said. "I hoped you didn't know, because if you _do_ know and you're still choosing to align yourself with them—"

"I think you're wrong about them," I interrupted firmly. "I mean, how would you even know? They don't go onto the reservation, do they?"

Billy scowled, an unusual sight in his usually cheerful face. He was clearly in a bad mood tonight. I just hoped he wouldn't decide it was his place to warn my dad that his daughter's polite, chivalrous boyfriend was also a blood-sucking nightmare creature.

"Just be careful," he said. "Charlie's my oldest friend, and I know you may not believe this but I do care about what happens to him and his kin. I won't say anything about it to him—yet. But please watch out, will you?"

"I don't know what you would say, even if you wanted to," I said carefully, looking him dead in the eyes. "Charlie likes Edward." Okay, he _tolerated_ Edward. He'd liked him more before he started dating me.

"He may like Edward, but that's only because he doesn't know Edward," said Billy. I sucked in my breath, surprised that he'd actually come right out and said something openly for once.

"Billy," I said, going for broke, "I know about the treaty." It was his turn to look surprised. "They haven't broken it, have they? The treaty just says they have to stay away from the tribe, and they can't—" my voice dropped to a whisper"—_bite anyone_. And I've been with Edward this long and nothing has happened. I'm over there all the time and it's always been fine." I curled my pinky finger under guiltily as I said this. "Don't you think it's time to start believing them when they say they're not like the others? This is getting ridiculous."

Billy sighed and seemed about to speak when the front door opened again and Charlie walked in. "Look who I found half-submerged out there," he said jocularly. Jacob peered out from behind my dad and waved ironically. The whole top of his t-shirt was soaked, and it stuck to his bony shoulders.

"I can't find it, Dad," he said. "Where'd you say it was?"

"Aw, shoot, son," said Billy in what I knew to be a falsely cheerful voice, "I had it here in my pocket. I'm sorry! Here, Charlie, I brought you some of Harry's fish-fry. You hungry for dinner?" He held out a large brown paper bag, full of something that left grease spots all down the sides.

"Hell yeah," said Charlie. "Here, I'll put some potatoes on." With one last sorrowful look in my direction, Billy wheeled after my father into the kitchen.

I turned to Jake. He was starting to shiver with cold, although he was also trying not to show it. There were little glassy beads of rain dusting the top of his head. His long hair stuck to his face. He looked like a drowned kitten. It smote my heart something fierce.

"Come on," I said firmly, taking him by the hand and leading him to the stairs. "Let's get you something dry to wear."

"Oh, thank god," he said. "I'm cold enough to piss vinegar." I snorted with laughter and brought him into my room, leaving the door open behind us. I began going through my drawers, looking for a t-shirt that would fit him and wouldn't look too girly. I finally spotted one I'd slept in only a few times and turned to toss it to him. Then I blushed red as wine, because he'd taken off his shirt while I was looking for clothes and was now standing very wetly in just his shorts in the middle of my bedroom. Jacob didn't seem to notice, though; he just grabbed the shirt out of midair and pulled it over his head. "Thanks," he said gratefully. "Stupid Forks. It was so nice yesterday. How was I supposed to know it would turn into this in one day?"

"You should have learned that by now," I said. "Maybe it affects you more because you're all skin and bones, ever think of that?" I nudged him playfully in the ribs.

"You're one to talk," he said, nudging me back. "Come on, let's go fatten up. I smell fish fry."

* * *

**Like _Long Long Long_, this story is an attempt to resolve my feelings about the _Twilight_ series and the powerful draw it has on my imagination. Where that story addressed mostly characterization, this story will address mostly content: the plots of _New Moon, Eclipse_ and _Breaking Dawn_ will be reworked and at times rewritten to better reflect what I feel are important qualities for a fantasy novel. This means I will be focusing on continuity, plausibility, pacing, and complexity. If the end result is a story that is both entertaining and internally consistent, I will consider this experiment a success. If I can also manage to retroactively correct the uncontrolled racism, sexism, classism, ageism and general sense of entitlement and privilege of the original series, I will be very well pleased.**

**When necessary, I will explain major changes in A/Ns to follow each chapter. They will be bolded to make them easier to skip, for those who wish to read this as a straightforward fanfiction. I welcome your reviews and commentary, but I would ask that you keep in mind that my disdain for Smeyer's craft is not indicative of my feelings about the people who love her books. Serious and uncompromising critique of Smeyer's writing is not an attack on her fans. If you are a hardcore _Twilight_ enthusiast, I hope you will still find this story rewarding. If you are, like me, a spiteful malcontent who would quibble with God himself, then Hey! You've come to the right place.**


	2. Strangers On the Land

Saturday was bright and glorious; the cold rain had ceased in the night and I expected the temperature to hit fifty by afternoon. My father woke me at seven-thirty in the morning, wearing a fuzzy, bewildered expression as he handed over the cordless phone. I waited for him to stumble back to his bedroom—this was one of his rare sleep-in days—and then put the phone to my ear.

_"Hey, Bell!" _said Alice happily_. "The family's going to go out into the woods to play baseball. You know, to let off steam. It can be very stressful graduating to adulthood for the fourteenth time in a row."_

Oh dear. Perhaps I _wouldn't_ be spending all day with Edward, as I'd hoped. My boyfriend made a point of keeping me well away from displays of athletic prowess by his family; I suppose he thought it might put me in unnecessary danger. "Okay," I said in a small voice. "Well, thanks for letting me know..."

_"So, Ed and I'll pick you up in an hour, kay? Dress warm, it's getting pretty chilly out there. Bloody weather.."_

"I...wait, what?" I was distracted from my surprise at being invited by her words about the weather. "You guys can get cold? But I thought…" I'd seen them in light jackets in the dead of winter.

"_Yeah, we get cold. The cold just can't kill us like it kills you meat-bags. Anyway, gotta go. Make sure you eat a big breakfast, kid; you may not know this but it's the most important meal of the day!"_ And she was gone.

"Um…" I said, but there was no one to hear me but the ringtone.

* * *

An hour later, I sat with Charlie in the living room, him watching a sports program with glazed eyes and a half-eaten bowl of Cheerios in his lap, me as jittery as I always got when the Cullens were involved. I fiddled aimlessly with my cell phone, a gift from Charlie for my eighteenth birthday the previous September.

"They're here!" I yelped at the first sound of a car door slamming. I heard firm steps up onto the porch, and then the doorbell rang. "I got it!" But Charlie made it to the door ahead of me—I hadn't even realized he was awake.

"Hello, Chief!" chirped Alice, throwing her arms around Charlie's neck for a brief and unexpected hug. Alice was probably my dad's favorite of the Cullen "kids". Which made sense: when I wasn't at her house she was at mine, and barely a week went by without her, Jessica, Angela and I taking up the whole downstairs for what we called _Estrofests_, which usually involved BBC costume dramas and/or nail polish. I did love surrounding myself with all those markers of pleasant young womanhood, even if they had no significance for me personally.

As usual, Alice charmed Charlie without the slightest effort. A few well-placed jests, an ingenuous smile here and there, and he was toast.

"I can't believe you've never come to a Forks High baseball game!" she was bubbling, twenty minutes later. "It's a tradition in this town! Promise me you'll come to one in the spring? I'm going out for pitcher."

"Sure," said Charlie, his eyes twinkling. "You manage to nab that pitcher spot, and I'll be sure'n show up for a game or two."

"You don't think I can do it!" she exclaimed teasingly.

"You're gettin' Bella to a baseball game," said Charlie, walking us to the door. "I don't believe there's anything you _can't_ do. You all have fun now. I'll want to know the score when you get back, Bells." And he chuckled disbelievingly, and shut the door behind us.

It was that easy.

"I just adore your dad, Bella," said Alice with a grin and she twirled over to the Beemer. "I wish he were mine!"

"What's wrong with Carlisle?" said Edward, indignantly.

"Oh, fie," scoffed Alice, "I can have as many dads as I want. It's not like Carlisle was the first in line."

"He does care about you a great deal, Bella," affirmed Edward. "Before, I always thought he was a few hairs short of a beard, but he seems normal once he opens his mouth. I think I know where you got your immunity to mind-reading from, anyway. Yours is stronger, though. Maybe it's a recessive gene."

"Lucky me," I said sincerely.

"Ugh," groaned Alice from the backseat. "Gross, guys!"

I blinked at them both, confused.

"Oh, sorry," said Alice, not sounding sorry at all. "He was about to kiss you and I _so _do not need to see my brother macking on his mate in such close quarters."

"He was?" I wailed. "You _were?_" Damn it, Alice! But I wasn't too upset. I liked the way she'd called me his mate. Still wasn't used to that.

* * *

When we got to the clearing, the sun was finally starting to peek through the clouds. It might even shine for real today. I walked a little behind Edward and Alice toward the Cullens, who were clustered together arguing about teams. I supposed Emmett and Rosalie were planning to spend the winter break with their family before returning to college in January. At any rate, they were here now.

"Okay, okay!" laughed Esme when she saw the three of us approaching. "Alice, Jasper and I are on one team. Carlisle, Emmett and Edward on the other. And Jasper, you're not allowed to make us all feel lethargic when it's your turn to bat. If I catch you cheating one more time, I'm going to thump you into next week!"

"Aw, shucks, mom, can you blame a guy for trying?" he drawled, slinking over to give her a kiss on the cheek. She laughed and ruffled his perfect blond hair and then shooed him away.

"Aren't you playing?" I asked Rosalie as she settled on a log next to me to watch the others take their positions in the field. "I don't want to make you sit out or anything…"

"I'll probably switch with Edward in a few innings," she said. I could hear her trying resolutely to be affable, but no matter how many times we exchanged polite small-talk, she never quite lost that strange coldness that had so struck me the first time I'd met her as _Edward's Girlfriend_ and not simply _New Girl at School_. "Someone has to play umpire," she explained, "and I drew the short straw. The logistics are outrageous. Edward and Alice always have to be on opposite teams, because at least that way they sort of cancel each other out. And you should have seen when we tried to play rugby and Jasper was the umpire. Alice could do no wrong, it seemed. But put them on opposite teams and suddenly he's out for blood."

I smiled, watching Jasper hop from foot to foot in the outfield. He was grinning, his skin faintly glowing in the weak sunshine. The wind had teased his fair hair into a halo. It was by far the happiest I'd ever seen him; he usually looked so severe when I was around. Severe and, often, riddled with guilt.

I wasn't generally keen on sports, but watching the Cullens play baseball was not unlike watching a cheetah take down a gazelle while simultaneously catching and throwing a little white ball around. They moved with such effortless grace. Rosalie kept me informed of the score, and while I appreciated that she seemed to be trying hard to make conversation, it didn't stop feeling unnatural to me, and a little forced. Still, it was better than her getting up and leaving as soon as I came near, which was what she used to do. So while there was a lull in the small talk, I braved up to say something real.

"Rosalie?" I said tentatively. "I, um, I really appreciate you doing all this for me. I know you don't exactly like me…"

"Who said I don't like you?" she said quickly.

"No one," I said. "I don't know, it just seems like you're, you know, not my biggest fan. I mean, no one said you had to be…" God, what the hell kind of crack was I smoking, that I thought this would be a good idea? I was so bad at talking to other women!

"Edward's your biggest fan," she said. "No room for anyone else."

"Well, I just wanted to say thank you," I finished meekly. "Edward told me how hard it is for you guys to be around me, and I know you all have to be careful not to like, step on me by accident. I just wanted to say I'm sorry I'm so human and breakable. I'm sorry I'm such a liability." Rosalie was looking out over the field with a peculiar expression on her beautiful face.

"Bella, your humanity isn't a liability," she said, like she was working something out. "Honestly, I would give anything to be human again. Like you. I envy you."

"You do _not_ want to be like me," I said. "I am seriously pathetic. You should have seen my inner monologue when I first met Edward. Totally ridiculous."

Rosalie glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. "You really like him, don't you?" she said.

"Is there a word that means the same thing as 'like', but times about eleven-hundred, and rhymes with 'dove'?" I said. "'Cause I _rhymes-with-dove_ Edward."

Rosalie smiled a painful little smile. "Well, since you brought it up, I guess I should apologize too." She paused a moment and watched the field. "Would you like to know something strange?" she said.

"Please."

"Edward was the first person I ever knew to care more about how he could help me than what he could get out of me. Human or vampire. I know Carlisle would have been the same if I'd let him, but I hated him for changing me. For _years _I hated him, and I refused to let him in, and I didn't trust Esme because she was his mate, and besides, she just seemed so _happy_ all the time. When I was changed Edward was the only person on earth who truly understood me. It's not only that I'm selfish enough to want to keep him all to myself, although if I'm being brutally honest that is part of it. I also don't want to see him hurt. And maybe I've been a little _over_protective, overly guarded. Of him and myself."

"What does Edward need protecting from?" I asked. "I mean, just _look_ at him." Edward was wrestling with Carlisle over the ball. It looked epic.

"Oh, nothing physical," Rosalie replied. "It's simple, really: I want him to be happy. If he's to share his life with someone, I want her to be worthy of him, and...Bella, I was afraid to give you a chance. I know it's unfair to you, but when you care about someone as much as I care for Edward, fairness does not always factor strongly. When he couldn't read your mind, I thought it must mean you had something to hide. And this was so soon after a very upsetting incident involving one of Edward's school friends. She looked a lot like you, and I've had trouble separating memory from reality."

"You're talking about Emily, right?" I said. Edward had told me of her, although he hadn't gone into detail about just what had ended their friendship.

Rosalie nodded. "I won't pretend that my behavior was justified, but making nice to Edward's girlfriend fell pretty low on the list compared to worrying that he would be hurt, or I would be hurt, or our family would be hurt. I really am sorry, Bella. I wish I'd talked to you sooner."

"Why are you talking about it now?" I asked. "What's changed?"

Rosalie smiled. "I needed some distance," she said. "It's been very helpful, having the time and space away at college to clear my head. As much as I enjoy certain aspects of teenage culture, I also feed off of teenage insecurities. I'm always happier with people who have left those years behind them. And I see it now," she said. "I see how you feel about him. And if you love my brother as much as I think you do, then I know you will never hurt him. Or any of us." She looked down at her hands, twisted in her lap. "It's hard for me to connect with people I don't know, and so even when I did start to realize you don't wish us harm, I couldn't entirely eliminate my own innate awkwardness. I never really know how to act around other girls my age. I can never tell if I'm talking too much or too little."

"That makes two of us," I said. We sat there for a moment, more comfortably than before.

"Why would you be jealous of me?" I asked, thinking about what she'd said. "What on earth do I have that you don't have better?"

"Are you kidding?" she laughed incredulously. I shook my head and shrugged. "You can change, Bella. That is a precious, precious commodity."

"You're sounding like Edward now," I said. "He said you guys never change, but that _can't_ be true. No way was Edward always like this. He was so...tightly-wound when I first met him." I looked over at where Edward was doing exuberant backflips in the outfield, catching the fastballs that Emmett and Esme were pitching at him from opposite sides. It was hard to tell from all the way over here, but it looked like he was laughing. They seemed to have abandoned any formal conception of _baseball_.

"Oh, our behavior changes sometimes," said Rosalie. "Edward has loosened up, that's true. Our personalities can change, albeit slowly. But our bodies...imagine the tedium of never-ending wakefulness, Bella. No sleep to break your life up into manageable fragments, no hormonal cycles, no illnesses to recover from, no bursts of adrenaline...we are what we are. Fixed. Eternal. It's horrible."

"It doesn't sound all that horrible," I said, thinking of the alternative, which was a slow descent into decrepitude followed by an eternity of nothingness. "But how would I know?" I added, mostly to be polite.

"The worst of it is," said Rosalie sadly, "that Em and I—we'll never have children. Vampires can't procreate. Believe me, we've _tried_. I've studied it, extensively. In fact, vampires have been working on it for thousands of years. I can't bear children because my body can't undergo the changes necessary for such an undertaking. We've considered adopting a human child and raising it as our own, but that would carry such an enormous risk. Then I thought, perhaps if we found a surrogate...I would be happy with Emmett's child, even if I couldn't be the biological mother. But vampire genetic material isn't compatible with human, no matter how I configure it. And it breaks my heart. I've always wanted to be a mom, you know? And I'll never have that. I'll never change. I'll never have a child and watch her grow from an infant to an adult. I would give anything to have that back.

"Mind you," she went on, inspecting a fingernail, "I wouldn't go back to being the human I was before, because frankly that human's life sucked. But you know, I met Emmett two years after I was turned. Just two years! What if we'd met as humans? It could have happened. I always play this scene out in my head, where it's 1933 again and I bump into him at some backwoods country party, and we dance until we're both sweaty and out of breath, and then we walk together under the moonlight, and our hearts are pounding and we're a little ripe from dancing, and we kiss each other shyly and fall in love and god, Bella, we have a _future_."

"But...you have nothing _but _future," I said timidly.

"I know," sighed Rosalie. "It shouldn't feel like a burden. Usually it doesn't. Usually I can be happy. I love Emmett. I love all of them so much, so fiercely. The capacity for love when you're a vampire—it boggles the mind. Or maybe that's just because I've had so many years with them. But I can't help but wish things had gone differently."

_None of us chose this life,_ Esme had said once. "I'm so sorry, Rosalie," I said softly. "I never thought of it that way..."

"Thank you," she said. "I know I'm being melodramatic. But after all, you're Edward's mate now; you might as well know all about his depressing big sister."

"That's okay," I joked, "I think Alice offsets you, anyway."

"Between us we've got 'manic-depressive' pretty well covered, don't you think?" Rosalie laughed, and it was such a beautiful, tantalising sound, a laugh like I'd never heard before, the laugh of a goddess. I'd never heard Rosalie talk so openly at all, or for so long. But it broke off much too suddenly.

I looked out at the field where Rosalie was looking, and realized _everyone_ had gone still. I noticed the tense set of their shoulders as they all looked toward the far corner of the field. Then they sprinted back to Rosalie and me, arriving beside us in seconds.

"What is it?" I asked, looking from face to worried face. "What's wrong?"

"Strangers," said Carlisle. "Nomads."

"What, you mean..._vampires?_"

Edward stepped forward and put his arm around my waist. "They're almost here, Bella," he said urgently. "I have to carry you, and I have to run as fast as I can, and you have to try not to panic. Emmett, Alice, come on."

Before I had even begun to process what they were talking about, Edward slung me onto his back and took off. I couldn't breathe, the air beat at my face so thickly. I could sort of hear Emmett and Alice keeping pace with us over the rushing wind in my ears, but I didn't dare open my eyes for fear of getting a bug in one at sixty miles per hour. I couldn't even think; I'd never seen Edward so terrified, and that was what scared me more than anything. And I didn't even know who we were running from.

* * *

**I don't object to James's storyline _per se_, but I thought it was handled unnaturally in the books, so prepare for things to be _extensively_ be streamlined here. Also, in case it slipped by you, note that this story begins just before Bella's final semester of high school. She and Edward have now been together for about a year.**

**Regarding the conversation between Bella and Rosalie: I feel certain that, if hybrid conception were as simple as _slop vampire semen into human ladyparts and let stew for thirty seconds_, Nahuel, his sisters, and Renesmee would not be such rarities as to be totally unknown and unsuspected by the Volturi. I also don't for one minute believe that Rosalie (not to mention all those other women who wanted babies, and all the males who longed for fatherhood because, I don't know, call me crazy, _maybe parental instincts are not reserved for vagina-havers_) would not once have considered alternate procreation methods, such as insemination of a human woman with vampire material. I'm not saying it's totally _impossible_, it just can't be that _easy_. Someone would have stumbled upon it long ago.**


	3. Fight and Flight

We reached town in an astonishingly short time—less than half the time it'd taken to drive out. Edward put me down on a sidewalk a few streets over from the Forks's main street; luckily there was no one around to see me wheezing and spluttering like an old man. It took me several minutes to get my heart to stop thudding so aggressively, and even longer to sort out my thoughts. Alice, Emmett and Edward stood there patiently. Not even Alice said a word; that was when I knew there was real trouble.

"Okay," I said when I had finally caught my breath. "Why are we here? What's happening?"

"C'mon, we need to get moving," said Emmett. Alice slung her arm through mine and Edward took me by the other hand, and we started walking toward civilization, Emmett circling around us in what he probably thought was an inconspicuous manner.

"That was James," said Alice, keeping her voice low.

"Who's James?" I asked.

"Bad news, that's who," she said darkly. "You remember I told you I spent the first few decades of this life avoiding other vampires?"

I nodded, eyes riveted to her face which was set in an expression of regret.

"I exaggerated," she said. "I was avoiding James. _Only _James. He became obsessed with my scent when I was a human, as obsessed as Edward is with yours, but he doesn't have Edward's moral code, _or_ his self-discipline. The only thing that ultimately saved me was my sire, who turned me before James could catch up. James was so furious he hunted down and murdered my sire, but by then he could no longer track me because I always saw him coming. Eventually I found Jas and everyone else, and he was forced to admit defeat. He may not be quite as brilliant as the Volturi tracker, but he's good enough. And he takes it personally. Tracking is...it's practically a _religion _for James."

"Smelling like you do, Bella," said Emmett agreeably, currently walking ahead of us, "I'm amazed this hasn't happened before." He grinned broadly at Alice. "Am I right, Ally?"

"You _are_ kind of a beacon for trouble," allowed Alice, permitting Emmett's interruption to cheer her momentarily. But in another moment she was far away once more. "My brain is still hard-wired to James's frequency, because I spent so many years thinking of nothing else. As soon as he heard us playing baseball and made the decision to come check it out, I had a vision. There's nothing he could have done right then and there, of course, not with us all standing guard, but we really would prefer you two not to meet face to face. And I admit, I...I never want to see him again," she finished in a small voice.

"Oh," I said, holding her arm a little more tightly and wishing there were some way I could fix this for her. "So...this was a precaution, right?" Alice nodded. "And...did it work?" Alice shook her head glumly. "Well…" I said, trying not to panic. "How do you know? Maybe it worked! What's going to happen?" _Calm down, Bella,_ I instructed myself, but I was beyond calming. The thought of strange vampires out for my blood brought home yet again to me just what risky friends the Cullens were. I trusted them, of course I did—but would this have happened if I'd never met them? Or would I have been in even more danger, devoid of their protection? Did I really even care, come right down to it?

"It didn't work," said Edward miserably, "because your scent is all over the clearing and the whole family. The fact that you are obviously a companion of Alice's cannot have helped, I'm sorry to say. We needed to get you away, and we're hoping that Jas and Carlisle can talk them out of tracking you, but..." He stopped talking and gripped my hand so tightly I felt the bones shift around.

"Don't be such a worrywort, Ed," said Emmett cheerfully. "If nothing else works, we'll just tell him _we_ ate Bella. I mean, who'd even believe we could stand being around her without—"

"Emmett!" barked Edward. "Not helping!"

"Sorry," said Emmett with a sheepish smile. "Just trying to lighten the mood a little."

"Well, don't," snapped Edward. Emmett didn't seem to take offense; he just kept looking around, guiding us placidly through the moderately busy main street.

"So," I said, trying to take my mind off of the murderous, supernatural tracker who now had my scent, "Why are we here, exactly?"

"Safest place to be," said Edward between gritted teeth. "Nomads don't get near large groups of people like this, because they lack the self-control not to go on a rampage, and, well...you've already heard about the Volturi. Rampages are pretty off-limits. Even James won't dare attack you here."

"Okay," I said, my eyes floating blindly over the store-fronts and apartments we were passing. "So, what happens when it gets dark and everyone goes home?"

"Um…" said Edward.

"'_Um'?_" I repeated. "Don't you have a _plan?_"

"We're working on it, Bella!" said Alice. "I think you should leave the state. Immediately."

"Alice!" hissed Edward quellingly.

"Oh, what now?" I said, more irritably than I meant to. I was too frightened not to let some of my anxiety show, but I regretted it when I saw the sorrowful look Edward turned on me.

"I never wanted any of this for you, Bella," he said softly. "I don't want you to have to lose a single moment of normal life, just because of what I am. And now we have to leave the state, just because I dragged you along to some stupid—"

"You're spiraling, Eddy," said Emmett, still incredibly cheerful. I was beginning to wonder if he was always in a good mood, or if he was simply projecting a good mood to protect his brother and sister. It seemed to work, in a small way, because Edward sighed heavily and then said, "But we'll do whatever we need to, to keep you safe. I promise you that."

"Even if it means I have to leave the state?"

He nodded.

"Well, do I get any say in this?"

"Of course you do, Bella!" said Alice earnestly. "But we are _way _better planners than you, so, you know, keep that in mind. No offense."

"I'll do whatever you guys say," I said. "I'll leave the state, leave the country, whatever. I don't want to make trouble just because I reek, apparently. But...can I at least see my dad again, before I go? I mean, in case, you know, in case...in case he gets worried." I decided not to say what I was really thinking—_in case I am horribly murdered and he winds up short one daughter_—but everyone obviously knew what I had in mind, because they all started talking at once.

"Don't even think this is a permanent—"

"—be seeing him again in two days, after we've slapped James around a little bit—"

"Of _course_ you can see your dad, Bella!"

"Alice!" remonstrated Edward and Emmett.

Alice shrugged. "The girl wants to give her dad a heads-up," she said. "I think we should let her!"

"And take her back to her house, so James can sniff out where Charlie lives? How about we _don't_."

"Oh," said Alice, waving Edward's protestations away with one breezy hand. "Don't be ridiculous, we'll go see him at the station right now."

"What am I supposed to tell him?" I asked nervously. "Are we _actually_ leaving the state? Where are we going? How are we getting there? Is this really happening?"

"No, Bella," said Alice in echoing tones, gazing mesmerizingly into my eyes. "We're not real. It's time to wake up." Then she pinched my arm, and it hurt.

"Ow!" I yelped.

"Yes, it's happening, yes, we're real, and you're probably going to have to take a plane. And I have no idea what you should tell your dad, but you'd better think fast. We're almost there."

I looked up and realized we were nearly at the station. Alice and Emmett took out their cell phones and walked a few steps away to hold conversations that were too low and fast for me to make out. Edward squeezed my hand one last time—_ouch_—and then nodded. "I'll stay out here. It's probably best if he doesn't think it's anything to do with us. Best for him, I mean." I nodded mutely and pushed through the glass doors to the police station.

I hadn't been in this building since I was young, back when it had still seemed like an adventure to visit a police station. It looked like a dentist office, except there were no toys on the floor. It was drab and depressing in here. Or maybe I just thought that because of what I had to do next.

"Is my dad in?" I asked the receptionist. "Er, Chief Swan, I mean?"

"Sure," she said, sounding surprised. "Go on in, hon." She pressed a button and the door beside her unlocked. I walked through it, down the hall it opened onto, and then through the door with my father's name painted on the glass. I felt like I was in a dream. I felt alone, so terribly alone…

And suddenly I knew what I was going to say.

Charlie looked up as soon as he heard the door opening, and his smile was surprised but genuine.

"Hey, how's the grown-up?" he said jocularly. But his smile faded almost immediately; my face must have been a study. "What's wrong, Bells?" he asked, concern sweeping across his forehead. He walked around his desk toward me, and I forced a smile.

"Hey, Dad," I said. "I, um…" I trailed off.

"Okay, let's have it," he said, and I was surprised to hear a note of anger in his voice.

"Have what?" I asked, confused.

"This is not the first time you've come back from the Cullens' all weird, and I want to know why, and I want to know _now_." He leaned against his desk and folded his arms across his chest, and he looked very, very much the Chief of Police.

"Oh," I said, "it's not really about them. I mean, it sort of is, but not really. I was watching them play baseball and everything, and then I started thinking about how Mom and I used to go watch Phil play, and I just got really sad all of a sudden. I got so carried away with school and, and everything, and I haven't even thought about how much I miss her. I've saved enough money for a plane ticket down to Jacksonville, and I thought maybe I could go see her. Sort of a little Christmas present to myself. Only the last cheap flight down there leaves in four hours, and I still have to get to SeaTac first. So I'd have to go before you got home, and I wanted to at least say goodbye." He didn't look convinced. I was doing this no matter what he thought, and there was no way he could stop his eighteen-year-old daughter from leaving town if she wanted to, but I was really hoping to come home to a not-pissed-off dad in a few days. "Besides," I said, trying to look ingenuous as Alice had done that morning, "there is like, _way_ better shopping in Jacksonville, and I am sick to death of these jeans."

"Bells—" he started to say, but I cut him off. If I let him talk he might try to talk me out of it, and I didn't know how well I could keep this up against that kind of opposition.

"I could just really use some sunlight," I said quickly. Then, for good measure, I added, "And some mom time. I'll call you when I get there. I'll be back before you've even noticed I'm gone." I realized as I said the words how much I hoped it would be safe for me to return on the _sooner_ side of _sooner or later_. The thought of Charlie spending Christmas alone was enough to break my heart.

"You're _sure_ this is just about your mom?" Charlie asked, concern etching lines over his eyebrows.

I nodded. "Well…" I said hesitantly. "It's also _a little_ about the shopping."

My father laughed, and kissed the part in my hair, and wished me a safe trip.

* * *

A short time later I was sitting in the first class section of a flight to South America. I had no clear idea of where we were going, other than the general region of Brazil. Edward and I were alone on this trip, while the entire rest of the Cullen clan stayed behind to detain and decommission James. They would be six against three, and they were powerful. Still, I wished iI had a better grasp on the situation. Every time Edward started to explain the plan, he got distracted by the apparently overwhelming din of the thoughts of all the other passengers on the plane. But that didn't matter, because after I'd gotten settled in my seat beside him, I lost consciousness pretty much immediately. All the stress must have been wearing on me. Either that or my body knew that sleep was preferable to waking awareness of the nightmare I had so suddenly found myself in.

I didn't regain consciousness until we touched down in Brazil. Wordlessly Edward led the way off the plane. I used the restroom and tidied myself up as much as I could—I was still wearing the jeans and sweater I'd put on that morning—and called my dad to let him know I'd landed. He didn't pick up, but I left him a message, trying to sound casual and a little bored, like this was just another ordinary visit to my mom. After that, I met Edward just outside the bathroom. He hugged me briefly to his side before taking my hand and leading me outside.

It was late evening by this time, and the streets were packed with young and beautiful people going to parties. Edward hailed a cab and directed it some thirty minutes east, where we found a dock which rented boats.

"How far are we going?" I asked, trying not to sound whiny. I was so so tired of travelling. More than anything I wanted the buzzing feeling in my legs to go away.

"Not much further," said Edward, leading me to a small motorboat that was docked on a private pier. He turned it on with a key from his own keychain, and we were off, skimming and bouncing over the waves. "We're going to Isle Esme," he said, loud enough for me to hear over the roar of the engine. "Carlisle bought it for my mom after they got married. It's remote, and no one outside our family even knows about it. We thought it would be the safest place for you until things calm down."

"How are things going to calm down?" I asked. "You don't think James is going to give up, do you? You said—"

"We'll kill him," said Edward through a clenched jaw. "We'll tear his head off and burn the pieces. I heard what was in his head; Alice has been watching his decisions, and they're getting clearer. He won't give up the chase. He has to die."

I put my head in my hands and tried to breathe normally. "Will…will someone look out for my dad?" I asked. "Just in case?"

"Of course, Bella," said Edward. "And it goes without saying that I'll protect you while we're here. Not that James'll come here, but still. You need someone to keep you from tripping over a waterfall." He smiled, then, and I smiled back, grateful that for this moment, at least, we could still joke.

By the time we landed at Isle Esme, the sun was long gone and the moon was merely a sliver. But Edward, unhindered by the dark, tied up the boat and then swept me up in his arms to carry me up the hundred stone steps carved directly into the hillside, to higher ground. As much as I disliked being carried around like a baby, I wasn't sure if my calves could have handled all those steps just then. And then I saw the house, and I forgot about everything.

It was beautiful. Well, that stood to reason; wasn't everything Esme touched a work of art? The house was lit up from the inside, and golden light spilled out over a network of still pools and flower beds. The house seemed to be built of the same stone that had formed all those stairs.

There were so many windows, and they were so big and clean and open that stepping into the house was like stepping into another version of outside. As humid as tropical Brazil was, this house felt deliciously cool and fresh. The floors were a continuous mosaic of colored stone representing mythical godlike beings bestowing blessings on little tiny humans. There were white linen curtains fluttering at every window. Amazingly, there wasn't a single insect to be seen—not even mosquitos. But there were bowls of fresh, juicy-smelling fruit laid out everywhere, and low-lit, peaceful lamps, and vases upon vases of an exquisite tropical flower I'd never seen before. It somewhat resembled an orchid, but much more vibrant than the ethereal white ones I saw in shop windows. The purplish central petals were striped with vivid lines of blood-red filigree, cupping a heart of speckled gold; the pale outer petals, splayed like the five fingers of a hand, faded to pure white at the edges.

"Who did all this?" I asked in awe. "You were with me the whole time—"

"Esme called ahead," answered Edward. "There's a local woman who comes to clean a bit when we're on our way, so it's not too stuffy. She must have brought the fruit, too. And all these laelias."

"'Laelias,' I repeated, enjoying the taste of the word on my tongue. "Is that what those flowers are?"

Edward nodded. "They're a kind of orchid," he said. "The island is lousy with them. You'll be sick of them in two days." But I ignored him and ran over to the largest vase, burying my face in the flowers. They smelled even prettier than they looked. I plucked one from the vase and stuck it behind my ear.

"If I'm not careful," I said, "I might forget that we're not here for a vacation. I can't believe this place."

"Yes," said Edward, looking at me with a sad smile on his lips. "I don't think I've ever fully appreciated the island until now. You make everything wonderful, Bella." I was startled by the intensity in his voice and the expression on his face. I went over to him and entwined my fingers in his. I leaned my head against his chest and inhaled the heady scent of Edward combined with the sweetness of my laelia.

"I'm afraid," I told him in a whisper, and I felt his arm wrap around me tightly. "I don't know what's going on back there. But…I trust you. And I trust your family. And I'm scared but I'm going to try not to be."

"Even scared," said Edward, resting his cheek on top of my head, "you're still the bravest person I've ever known."

* * *

**1. ****Remember how cruel Bella was to Charlie when she left town in the book, throwing every hurtful thing she could think of in his face? Listen. Bella. You are an independent, willful young woman. Your dad is used to not having you around, and he knows you take a great deal of responsibility for your own life choices. Why don't you just, I don't know, _ask?_ If he puts up a fight, there are other ways to guilt him into letting you leave. I know she had to protect Charlie. She could have done it without ****without screeching at him about the heartbreak that ruined his life. I would be more willing to give her a pass, too, if this had been a one-time occurrence, but we all know she defaults to this behavior when Charlie won't give her her way. I would think, also, that it would be against her interests to tell him that she, a minor, is going to go live alone in an empty house where she is not expected, in a city where she has no family currently living. I have trouble believing Charlie would let her do that, guilt and heartbreak or not. He's still a damn _cop._**

**2. In this story,**** Edward is personally escorting Bella to a safe place that has no previous association with her and to which James has certainly never been. This feels like a more reliable plan than _Break _****_the family into small groups and s_****_end Bella to HER FRIGGIN' HOMETOWN, along with two of the Cullens whose powers are most suited to tracking and trapping_. Seriously. Jasper is by far the fighter with the most experience, and he can manipulate emotions! Alice can see the future! They didn't think those powers would be better used in the fight against James? _Really?_**

**As an aside, why wasn't more of a big deal made of Jasper's power? I would think that Aro would want him at least as much as he wanted Jane and Alec. Emotions govern basically _everything everyone does, ever_. And Smeyer limited him to...making Bella not feel nervous around her boyfriend's family. As always, Smeyer blesses us with a thoughtfully developed character, whose qualities and actions are meaningful and consistent. Or, you know, the opposite of that.**


	4. So How Do You, You Know, Without Blood?

I didn't sleep a wink that night. It was too hot in the room, but it wasn't the heat that kept me up so much as my fears. I thought about Charlie and wondered if there was something I should have done to warn him. But—warn him about what, exactly? Nothing he did could make the slightest difference. We just had to hope James didn't go looking for my house. And Edward assured me constantly that Alice had made my father's future and the Cullens' her top priority. But nothing eased my mind.

Sometimes I took a break from worrying about my dad to worry that James would somehow track down my mother instead. It wouldn't exactly be hard, not for someone as resourceful as I was sure he must be. My parents never talked and they never emailed, but what if Charlie got suspicious and contacted my mom? Did he even still have her number? What if they realized I'd tricked them, and started to panic? They might call attention to themselves, and James could easily use that to his advantage. There was nothing for me to do, either. Edward told me that someone would call with news as soon as there was any. All I could do was wait.

When I finally gave up on trying to sleep, the sun was already rising. Edward had sat mutely in a corner of the room the whole night, not moving an inch. He looked as tense as I felt, though nowhere near as tired. He watched me sit up and stretch. I decided to pretend I'd slept peacefully—no point giving him one more thing to worry about.

"You look exhausted," was the first thing he said to me, and I slumped.

"Yeah, okay," I admitted. "I'm exhausted. I couldn't sleep. I shouldn't have slept on the plane, I guess."

"Come here," he said, holding out his arms. I tripped into them, feeling 86% better the instant I fell into his embrace. He lifted me up till I was level with his face, and delicately nuzzled my throat. I stroked the side of his face with my palm; his cool skin felt good for once, instead of too-icy. In this humid heat, he had warmed to the temperature of a human fresh out of a cool swimming pool. I remembered what Esme had said once about vampires being no different from lizards, and giggled, my mouth pressing against his neck.

I felt quiet laughter rumbling through his throat and into my lips, and then I laughed harder and harder, and then all of a sudden I wasn't laughing, I was crying, _hard_. Big grotesque sobs ripped through me, and Edward just held me and held me and let me cry.

It took me a long time to cry myself out. I'd lost all feeling in my feet; they'd fallen asleep from dangling so long. When Edward tried to put me down I staggered and clung to him. I wasn't ready to be put down yet. I was afraid that if I stopped touching him, something terrible would happen to…someone, him or me or Charlie or Alice. Someone.

"Please, just keep holding me?" I asked tearfully. He nodded solemnly and, arm around my waist, led me over to a simply-upholstered settee. We sat down together, me tucked under his arm against his side. I didn't try to ask him anything. I didn't make him talk. I just tilted my head up and started kissing his neck, tentatively at first and then with increasing eagerness.

"Bella, please—" he said in a strained voice. He swallowed thickly a couple of times and then, abruptly, he began kissing me back.

I could feel him trying to be gentle, trying not to push my head back or break one of the arms he was holding loosely, but it still hurt. It hurt about as much as getting knocked to a wooden floor might: not enough to make me cry, but enough to demonstrate that in a battle of strength and endurance, the floor will always win. But it would have hurt more to stop. I was so sad and so scared and so, _so _horny. They were probably all connected, but I wasn't really thinking about that. I just smelled him and tasted him and felt his smooth, firm skin under my hands and against my face. I opened my mouth against his, but he kept his lips firmly closed. I was used to that, though. I'd had the same boyfriend for a year and we'd never Frenched once, let alone gone further than that. I understood why he was being so careful, and I was grateful, but I was tired of being so _cautious_. If he'd been a human we would have at least made it to the dry-humping stage by now, if not actual naked hugs. But Edward never let it go further than some light petting, despite a full year of him spending most nights in my bed. It was a little ridiculous, even if I _did_ understand. I didn't want all of this to end with me getting bitten by a vampire anyway, although of course if it had to happen, better Edward than anyone else…

I twisted around so I was straddling his lap. I was still wearing his shirt, which he'd lent me for sleeping in. I was wearing underwear, too, the ones from yesterday. I hoped they didn't smell awful, but what could I do about it? Instead of focusing on that admittedly small-time worry, I kissed him harder. I felt bruises blossom where his hands slid around to grasp my waist and cup my bottom; I felt his skin touch my upper thigh and practically combusted. I had never wanted anything as much as I now wanted Edward. I wanted him in ways that confused the hell out of me. I wanted to sink my teeth into him.

I slid forward in his lap and ground myself a little bit against his groin, and felt him get hard almost instantly. That was more than enough encouragement for me, but it seemed I'd gone too far, because the action elicited a sharp inhalation from him, and then suddenly I was sitting alone on the settee and he was on the other side of the room.

I was instantly struck by remorse, looking at him: he looked tortured, tormented. His beautiful eyes stared at me with naked hunger in their golden-brown depths. A very _particular_ hunger.

"…Edward?" I said cautiously. "Are you…okay?"

He took several deep breaths. He wasn't smiling. Neither was I.

Slowly, rustily, he nodded. "Yes," he said in as raspy a voice as he was capable of producing. "I bruised you…" He was staring at my arms, where there was indeed a fast-growing cluster of purply bruises. I shifted a little so that my shirt would cover what I suspected was a humdinger on my lower back.

"I don't care," I said defiantly. "I don't mind, I honestly don't. I just bruise easy."

He squinched his eyes closed and shot me a forced smile. "Bella, if you think that's going to make me feel better about it, you're mistaken. Now you just sound like a domestic abuse victim making excuses for her crummy boyfriend."

Okay, so he had a point. I took a deep breath. "Listen, Edward," I said, trying to be calm. "I don't know if there's any way for us to be, you know, _together _without me sometimes getting bruises. And there's no question of us being together, and I know the risks, and I still want to try. Don't you?"

He looked away from me. "Of course I do," he mumbled. "But there's got to be some way around this. I can't just accept that being with you will inevitably lead to hurting you. That's horrible. That's not love, that's codependence."

"Okay, maybe if we were both humans, yes," I said. "That would be wrong. But you're Superman! Superman and Lois Lane totally did it! And she probably had some doozies afterward, but—"

"That's a comic book series," said Edward. "This is real life."

"Oh yeah?" I said. "What about any of this feels real to you?" Oh god, all I wanted to do was put indiscriminate parts of him onto and into indiscriminate parts of me, and instead we were arguing.

"Bella," he said, "part of it is that I'm worried about what might happen if I lose control with you."

"Then don't move too much," I suggested. "Just stay as still as you can and let me do all the work. There are ways around this, Edward, there've gotta be—"

"That's _part _of it," he repeated. "I'm also worried about…why you want this. Whatever it is."

"It's sex," I clarified. He looked shocked that I had come right out and said it, and I remembered once again that he was really really old and probably still thought storks are delivered by Cabbage Patch Kids or whatever.

"You're afraid and you're tired and you're looking for a connection," he said, sounding frazzled. "You don't have to just give this to me without taking some time to think about it."

"Okay, first of all," I said, "let's clear up the part about me giving you anything. I may be a virgin, but that doesn't mean I have to agree with this idea that the state of a woman's hymen determines some aspect of her worth. I honestly could not care less about that. I'm not saving it for anyone. Well, okay, I'm saving it for you, now. I'm not saving it for any_thing_. Second of all, we've been together for a year. I've had _plenty_ of time to think about it. I've always known I would just do it when the time is right, and the time is so totally right, Edward, why can't you see that? Don't you realize how hard it is always having to hold back just when I want to devour you? Don't you want this too?"

"Bella, you're the only person I've ever wanted like this. You're the only person I'll ever want."

"Then why can't this happen?" I said pleadingly.

"I'm just…not ready yet," he said, sighing. "I need to wrap my head around it first, you know?" He looked so young in that moment that I realized with a pang how strange it must be for him, coming so close to sex after so long without it, being so old but still feeling so inexperienced.

"Would it help if we talked about it more?" I asked, my voice softening in pity. Edward looked at me slantwise.

"It might," he allowed. "I just need to feel that there's no pressure, you know?"

"Okay," I said, scooching over on the settee to make room for him again. "Hands to myself. Let's talk."

He sat down beside me.

"If you don't mind," I said when he made no move to speak, "I do have sort of a question. Um…how did you…I mean, how can you…" I gestured vaguely at his crotch. "…if you don't have any, you know, blood?"

Edward laughed. "Venom just takes the place of blood," he said. "It does everything blood does. Just, you know, much better."

"Okay," I said, "but you don't have a heartbeat, either. How's all that work? Because it totally just worked like five minutes ago." If Edward looked any cuter than his present state of embarrassment, I thought I might actually go ahead and die for real. My mom had always talked to me very openly and frankly about human sexuality, and it took a lot to shock me, but it wasn't hard to imagine that his upbringing must have been...different.

"It's hard to explain," he said. "It's hard even to study. Basically, our venom doesn't require a heart to move around our body. It's self-propelled. There are things in venom that keep it moving throughout the body, so that instead of needing a muscle to pump it through, it pumps itself. The venom flows steadily, each molecule of it propelled by a discrete power source, bringing the cells of our bodies whatever is needed to keep them strong and invulnerable. When I was first turned, it took me a long time to get used to this body; it felt like it wasn't mine anymore. And then Rosalie started doing all these tests and experiments, and she actually kind of proved me right: the venom occupies our bodies and keeps them running smoothly, without age or weariness, but it's not the symbiotic relationship that human bodies have with blood. In the human body, the blood receives oxygen from the lungs and brings it to the cells, pumped along by the heart. If the body dies, the blood cells die; they are mutually dependent. In my body, though, the venom does whatever it does mostly on its own. It keeps me alive, in a manner of speaking, but it doesn't seem to require much input from me to do so. Not food or air or anything. As far as we can tell, the venom doesn't even technically need a steady supply of blood. Carlisle tried to starve himself to death when he was turned, went years without a drop of blood, and it didn't even weaken him."

I was leaning against him by now, my toes dangling against the cool stone floor. He sounded calm again. I loved to hear him talk like this. It was fascinating, and he sounded so earnest, so excited to share everything he knew or guessed about his world.

"If you don't need oxygen," I asked, "what powers your cells? Is it magic? Fate? Dark wizards?"

"Not sure," he admitted. "We're kind of still working on that one. There's a whole lot of weird stuff in venom, and not all of it can be found on the periodic table. About ten years ago, while we were living in Alaska, Rosalie took up semi-permanent residence in a lab she built from scratch, just studying vampire biology. She isolated this one bizarre little molecule in our venom, highly complex but shockingly elegant in its design, with not a wasted atom. It's one of the only molecules that is one-hundred-percent common to every vampire Rose tested, although admittedly that was a small sample, just us and the Denalis and a few of Carlisle's friends who came by to visit. Her theory is that it retrieves molecules from the blood we drink and compresses them into radioactive isotopes, which power our bodies at an atomic level—" He stopped abruptly and laughed ruefully, swiping one hand through his hair till it stood on end. "I'm not explaining this right," he said. "I wish Rose were here to explain it to you. She understands it way better than I do. But even if she were here, it's still just theory. It'll take a long time to prove, assuming we ever do."

"But hey," I said encouragingly, "if anyone's got the time to work it out, it's you."

Edward laughed. "Yes, I suppose so. Rosalie thinks that this one molecule is so efficient that it can create enough energy to power a body for a decade out of just one pint of blood. But to test that someone would have to go without drinking for, you know, well over a decade. Strangely, our people haven't been clamoring to volunteer for that case study. So as far as we know, it's impossible for one of us to starve to death. Even then, what occurs might not be actual permanent death, but merely stasis. As you know, we can lose body parts and have them reattached with no degradation, even after many years have passed. It's possible that if one of us went long enough without blood, he would power down, as it were; but the introduction of blood into that vampire's body might very well have them up and running again, none the worse for wear. All I can say for sure is that I'm some weird alien, possibly nuclear-powered, who can't get sick or die or starve easily, and I can run really fast."

"Sounds about right," I said, snuggling closer to him and resting my head comfortably in the hollow of his shoulder. "My very own atomic superhero. You know, Edward, I wouldn't mind getting in on this superhero business..."

"We've talked about it, Bella," he said wearily. "Becoming a vampire isn't something you can just undo if you find you don't like it. Have you not been listening? This stuff is _permanent_."

"Why wouldn't I like it?" I pressed. "It sounds amazing! I mean, think about what I could do if I had forever to live. I could read every single book ever written in the English language! I could learn all the other languages, and then read all _those _books! And I mean, I really want to see the future, Edward. I want to be around for the next Voyager. I want to see flying cars! And I can't wait for holographic television."

"Well, you should know, holographic television won't be much use to you if you become like us. Vampires see things too fast for human film; we see the flickers each time the picture refreshes in a movie. You won't be able to have pets, because most animals don't like the way we smell. You'll never get any older; when you're a hundred years old, people who haven't even been born yet will be looking down their nose at you, not taking you seriously. And what's worse is you'll always _feel_ the age you are when you're changed. I still feel seventeen half the time, on top of all the other ages I've been. Do you really want to be eighteen forever?"

"Okay, first off," I said, "I'm allergic to dander, so I was never going to get a pet anyway. And who cares if some shadowy future strangers don't take me seriously? You will, and my family will, and that's all I care about. And I mean, I wasn't suggesting that I turn into a vampire this minute. But I don't want to just go on aging while you stay young, and then regret for the rest of my life that I didn't stop while we were at least somewhat equal. Lots of people die young, Edward. God, I've almost died young like a hundred times now, and I can't see my life becoming arbitrarily safer any time soon. Why can't you see how much better this would be?"

"Bella, when you become like us, you're done changing. You're done with everything new—"

"How can you say that?" I demanded. "_I_ was new to you. I'll still be _me_, won't I? I'll still be alive, walking around and looking at things and learning things, right? The world will still have inventors and authors and musicians, all just going on and on, always creating new things, always innovating. That sounds pretty much like heaven to me, Edward. You have that even though you didn't want it, and I _do _want it, and you're telling me I _can't?_"

"You'll have to say goodbye to everyone you care about. Your parents, your friends...you'll never have children," he said desperately, raking one hand through his hair. "I can never give you children."

"Oh, please," I scoffed, "who says I have to give up my parents? Haven't you ever heard of Skype? And you know, your sister already explained all that stuff to me, about how you can't have kids. I don't want children, Edward. I want _you_. "

"You say that now," he said miserably, "but you may not always feel this way."

"I can't live my life based on what _may_ happen someday. So what if I change my mind? I'll adopt. That's what Esme did. _She's _happy."

"Bella," said Edward, frustration hissing like a dry wind through his words, "this life isn't easy. It isn't the reward at the end of the rainbow."

"I know that," I said softly, laying my head on his shoulder. "_You're_ my reward at the end of the rainbow. I would put up with way shittier things than eternal stamina and the ability to read twenty books a week, if it meant I got to keep you."

"Oh, Bella," he whispered. I felt his breath tickle against the part in my hair. "I love you so, _so_ much. Too much to foist this existence on you. I want you to live your life the way god intended."

"Don't believe in 'im," I mumbled.

"Then I want you to live your life the way nature intended."

"Vampires are natural," I said. "Isn't that what you've just been explaining to me?"

"Bella, you're...you're tired," he said weakly. Well, he wasn't wrong about that. "Can we shelve this for a little while? I need time to think, and you look like you're about to drop off any second now."

"No argument there," I said. My eyelids were drooping. It seemed my adrenaline rush had left me, and now I felt worn out and exhausted. But at least we were talking about it.

"Come on, Bella," said Edward as he gently lifted me from the couch. He lay me down on the bed where I'd failed to sleep all night, and then he lay down beside me. I curled up right against him, my hands splayed over his chest. He played with my hair and hummed something beautiful, and I finally fell asleep.

* * *

**_*_****I almost gave this chapter a more dignified title, but then I remembered that I lost all claim to dignity when I decided to rewrite _Twilight_. Count yourselves lucky I didn't just title it _Penises! And More, How To Give A Vampire An Erection Without Really Trying,_ or _All About The Sperm Spout.*_**

**_Twilight_ canon decrees that venom replaces all the liquids in the body, and burns up your circulatory system so that you're just like, a body with venom sloshing around inside it. Or something. That means no erections and no sperm: the sexual sterility double whammy. **

**It wasn't actually hard for me to come up with solutions to these problems; happily, my solution includes solutions to _other_ problems with vampire biology, like how they don't have to eat as often as humans and yet are somehow _infinitely __stronger. _(I guess Smeyer's reasoning was that there's no such thing as the first law of thermodynamics. Science-based, indeed.) I did have to selectively ignore the part about venom destroying/collapsing the circulatory system, but that was easy, because it was an arbitrary rule anyway. Like all of them.**

**Other possible explanations for Smeyer's silly vampires: **

**1. Vampire hearts beat so rapidly and on such a small scale that their beating cannot be detected. **

**2. Vampire cells are powered by superciliousness and/or condescension. **

**3. Vampires are actually unembodied beings of pure energy who are really good at implanting the experience of touch, sight, and pregnancy in the minds of humans. **

**4. Vampirism is a Tantalus-like punishment which God reserves for the worst of the worst sinners. He reincarnates all the Hitlers and Pol Pots in human bodies and then causes them to be bitten and to lead an eternal life of burning thirst, warfare, boredom and doucheyness. By definition, vampires only change people they are divinely predestined to change, so if you are bitten it's because you are the reincarnated spirit of Rasputin and you had it coming. Their cells are powered by deific anger. The duration of their vampire lifespan (and therefore purgatorial torment) is related to how awful they were in life; they can only receive redemption by being a Cullen.**

**I'm starting to regret that I didn't go with that last one.**


	5. Coming Down

I woke up alone at high noon. My first action was to sit up and look around for Edward; I was overtaken by a terrible sense of foreboding in his absence. I was just about to scramble out of bed and go hunting for him when he appeared in the doorway, bearing a large tray set with breakfast. My stomach responded with an ominous growl. It was so on-cue that we both laughed.

"Fresh _pão de queijo _and jam," said Edward, setting the tray down on the bed beside me. "_Cuz cuz_ topped with _queijo fresco_. Kiwi, papaya and mango, and coconut milk and coffee." Planted in a small juice glass was a laelia. I smiled and tucked it behind my ear.

"You're wonderful," I said around a mouthful of pão de queijo, which turned out to be some sort of cheesy mini-bread that tasted pretty much like heaven.

"Are you talking to me or the pão?" asked Edward with a smile.

"Yes," I answered thickly.

After breakfast Edward showed me to a huge closet stocked with clothes in the sizes of each member of the Cullen family—"for emergencies," he said. I was relieved to finally be able to put on some non-stinky clothes. I wasn't really the same size as any of them—too tall to fit Alice's clothes, too short for Rosalie's, too skinny for Esme's. But there were a lot of adjustable wrap dresses in Rosalie's section, so I wore one of those, wrapping the silky white knit as tightly around me as it would go. It looked pretty, even if it was a little longer on me than it would have been on its owner. And I was Esme's shoe size, which simplified things considerably.

"You're sure your family won't mind I'm wearing their stuff?" I asked anxiously when I finally emerged, freshly bathed and dressed, from the master bathroom/closet.

"I told you," laughed Edward, "they've never worn any of this. I think Alice made all those dresses in the early Seventies. Even if we wore everything once and gave it away, which would be ridiculous, we'd still never keep up with Alice's needle."

* * *

Edward took me to his one of his favorite spots on the island that day, a picturesque little grotto under a waterfall. I was actually a pretty strong swimmer, but he was too paranoid to let me get very far from him at any given time. I didn't really mind. I liked the closeness.

That evening he made me dinner, and then we cuddled in the living room and watched the sun set through the vista windows. When I got tired, Edward lay down in bed with me, and I had no trouble sleeping.

I woke to the sound of Edward's voice. He was on the phone, talking too quietly for me to hear, but when I sat up and looked at him, he smiled reassuringly.

"That was Alice," he explained, hanging up.

"Any news?"

"Not exactly news," he said, "but at least they have a plan now. Our friends the Denalis are coming down from Alaska, and they're going to help us keep everything under control. And Laurent, one of the nomads who was travelling with James, has agreed to help us."

"Why would he do that?" I wondered. "Isn't James his friend?"

"Not really," said Edward. "Remember, what my family has, what the Denalis have—it's unusual. Vampires may travel together when it's convenient, but Laurent didn't feel he owed James anything, and he felt uneasy about this whole situation. Carlisle has a reputation in the vampire world. My father lived with the Volturi for a long time, and they think well of him. And he's made a lot of friends—or at least, friendly acquaintances. Laurent had heard of him, and I suppose he must think it's better to align himself with the respectable head of a stable coven than with the unpredictable tracker he happened to be travelling with at the time. It may sound harsh, but it does make sense. From what I've heard, James is an expedient travelling partner but he's totally lacking in the qualities that make for a permanent friendship."

"In other words," I said, "he's a grade-A asshole. But what about the other one? Didn't you say there were three nomads?"

"Her name is Victoria," said Edward, "and apparently she's James's mate. If James is an unusually good tracker, I guess you might say she has an unusual gift for extricating herself from risky situations. She's done it before: Carlisle actually knew of her, even before all this started. Her coven was destroyed by the Volturi centuries ago, as punishment for some infraction. They took in her sister Heidi and killed her mother and her other sisters, but Victoria escaped then, too. Anyway, she's gone now. They have no idea where, but she took off. Laurent thinks she probably just went to a safe place to wait for James. She'll be waiting a long time," he finished, his voice hard.

"Did Alice say anything about Charlie? He's okay, right?"

"I'm sure she would have told me if he weren't," said Edward, but that wasn't really enough for me.

"I'd better call him anyway," I said fretfully. I didn't trust luck these days.

* * *

Our days passed with a strange combination of peace and anxiety. I could never really put my fears from my mind, but at the same time, spending long days in the blissful sunshine with Edward was so wonderful that I felt almost guilty I wasn't suffering more.

"I can't believe how different my life is," said Edward one morning as we lay on a blanket on the beach under the rising sun. "Having you here...I used to think that the only way I could experience this kind of silence was to isolate myself from everyone. My only two choices were total loneliness or the incessant intrusion of other people's thoughts. I never expected _this_." He leaned over me and trailed his lips along my throat, my collarbone, my jawline.

I turned to him at once, pressing my body against his as we lay just above the tideline. Our bare feet tangled together in the warm sand. I ran my hands up his arms and behind his neck.

"My god, you taste incredible," I murmured, taking little nips at the base of his throat. His hands drifted down my sides and then under the hem of the wrap dress I was wearing. I arched against him, relishing the feel of his fingers sliding up my inner thighs. I let my legs fall apart and Edward stroked higher and higher, until his fingers were brushing my underwear. I couldn't think about anything but the ocean of sensation in which I was presently drowning.

I reached between us and felt how hard Edward was. He gasped when I touched him, his whole body going rigid. But he didn't pull away. Instead, he rolled over and swung me on top of him, and I couldn't help but adore the view from up here. His honey-brown eyes were glassy and unfocused as he stroked my bare legs. Moving as carefully as a surgeon, he untied the fabric belt that kept my dress closed.

Never in my life will I forget the look on his face when my dress fell open and he realized I had no bra on underneath. I saw his lips moving at top speed and heard a low mumble, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. But it sure looked a lot like _thankyouthankyouthankyou_. I smiled, pleased at this heretofore unseen level of lust from him. Finally, we matched.

I wriggled against his groin a little. I was so wet I left a damp spot on his jeans, which were straining so much I worried for the integrity of the seams. When I reached down to unzip them and rub him through his underwear, he threw his head back and let out a moan.

_This is happening. This is happening_, I thought gleefully. Edward smoothly slid his pants—and underwear—down to his knees, and I way more awkwardly freed myself of my cotton panties, and then we just looked at each other for a minute.

"Is this okay?" I asked him in a hushed whisper. He nodded wordlessly, his eyes glued to my magic zone like he was a worshiper at some sacred shrine. He seemed a little afraid to move, but I didn't mind doing the work; it seemed safer, honestly, if we didn't have to trust to his self-control. I rubbed myself against him until we were both slippery and warm, and then, bracing myself against his chest with my hands, I sank down onto him.

Nothing could describe the pleasure I was feeling; I half-expected it to hurt, but I was so aroused that any tightness served to make it feel better, not worse. About half of it was purely physical; after all, rubbing genitals is a pretty tried-and-true way to have fun. What I wasn't prepared for was how sexy he looked, struggling to maintain control, quiet moans escaping his lips. He kept his hands away from my body now, which was a bummer even though I understood why it was necessary. He was clenching his fists so hard I worried he was about to break something. But then I started shifting around on top of him and forgot about everything but feeling. I know everyone says your first time is rubbish but oh my god this was _amazing_.

Edward only lasted about three more minutes, although I would gladly have gone on riding him for three more years. He just began jerking suddenly, and then his eyes squeezed closed and he bit back a yell and then suddenly he was sitting up, his arms wrapped so tightly around me I couldn't breathe, and his whole body was shuddering.

It took another three minutes for Edward to notice I was struggling to inhale.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern and guilt erasing his blissed-out expression. I nodded, still catching my breath. I smiled and leaned against him, and he played with my hair for a little while, ran his fingers gently down my spine. When I was finally ready to detach and stand up, I found my knees had locked, and Edward had to steady me—not that I minded. Oh no, not at all.

That was when he noticed the bruises.

"Good god, Bella, why didn't you _say?_" he asked, dropping to his knees to count the purple marks on my thighs and hips and stomach. I looked down, took stock of the damage, and then shrugged.

"Didn't notice," I said nonchalantly. Edward looked up at me mournfully.

"Oh, Bella," he said miserably. "I didn't...I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry...oh god. I swear this won't happen again, I'm so, _so—"_

"What do you mean it won't happen again?" I interrupted him sharply. He stood and kissed my forehead cautiously.

"I didn't realize how hard I was pressing," he said guiltily. "I thought I had it under control…"

"We're going to do this again, though, right?" I asked in a panic. He turned back toward the house without saying anything. "Right, Edward?"

"Come on," he said expressionlessly, leading me back toward the house. "I'll fix you some breakfast." After that, he wouldn't say another word.

* * *

The worst part was that I had only gotten started. I didn't blame Edward for not holding out, not in the least. Even if he _hadn't_ been a hundred-year-old-virgin, I wouldn't have blamed him. We were both new to this. But it seemed so unfair that I wasn't going to get another chance, just because he was a goddamned atomic superman. What a rip!

I did everything I could to persuade Edward to try again with me. I tried coming onto him while we lay in bed at night. I practically glued myself to that one spot at the base of his throat that had always made him go crazy in the past, but he just gently disengaged me and then went on as if nothing had happened. Once, I woke up from a sex dream and started absentmindedly playing with myself in the dark, but instead of joining in, Edward had the gall to get up and leave the room. When he brought me a tray with a mug of warm milk, I stared at it foolishly.

"What's that for?" I asked.

"It seemed like you were having trouble sleeping," he said without a trace of irony. Whereupon I took the mug, walked carefully over to the open window, and hurled it outside as hard as I could. I spun around and leveled my most furious glare on him. He seemed to shrink in on himself. I'd never seen him look so guilty or so vulnerable, and I didn't care.

"You know," I said, gritting my teeth around the words, "for a genius, you are the _stupidest person I've ever met!_ You _suck!_ You are the _worst!_" And I burst into angry tears.

At once he was beside me, enfolding me in his arms.

"Why don't you _want me anymore?_" I sobbed. I wanted to rage at him and push him away and kick his stupid venomous teeth out, but I wanted him to comfort me even more. Preferably with his penis.

"How can you think that?" he exclaimed, sounding totally betrayed. "How can you possibly think this is about...Bella, I was _hurting_ you! This time it was bruises—what if next time it's _internal _bruising? What if I crack a rib? What if I rupture something you _need?_ I'm not made of stone, Bella! I don't have it in me to do those things with you and still stay totally in control. I want you _so much!_ I want you _too_ much."

"Then we'll be careful," I said tearfully, knowing that I probably looked about as unsexy as I'd ever done. "Even more careful. I'll always be on top. You can sit on your hands, I don't care, we can at least _try—_"

"This is so dangerous," he whispered. "We came here to _escape_ danger. Please, Bella, _please _don't ask this of me."

"I'm asking," I said, "I'm begging, just...at least _try!_"

"Why do you ask so much?" he muttered, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me to his height. "Why can I never say no to you?"

"Say yes," I moaned, my sorrow and humiliation already evaporating under the smell of him, my legs already knotting themselves around his waist. "Say yes, say yes, say yes…"

"God help me," he said, carrying me over to the bed, "_yes_."

* * *

When we'd been there almost a week, I finally reached Charlie on the first ring. I half expected him to call me out immediately on my betrayal of his trust, but he still thought I was with my mom.

"You're keeping safe, right dad?" I asked worriedly, forgetting that he didn't know there was anything to keep safe _from_.

"Of course," he laughed. "Jesus, Bells, what's gotten into you?"

"Oh, nothing," I lied. "I don't know."

"You having a nice time, kiddo?"

"Sure am," I said. "Soaking up the sun. I'll almost even have a tan when I get back. My friends won't even recognize me when school starts back up."

"Yeah," he said, "I wouldn't put money on it."

* * *

We'd been at Isle Esme for about two weeks before there was any more news, although Edward talked to Alice on the phone most days.

"They've almost got him," he said with a grim smile, pressing _end_ on his cell phone. It was New Year's Eve. I hadn't yet voiced my worry that this might not be wrapped up in time for me to return to school for my last semester. Then some explanation would have to be found for Charlie, and I would probably get into massive trouble when it emerged that I wasn't with Renee _even a tiny little bit_. I didn't mention that now, though. It was nice to have good news, even if it _was_ just "almost".

"Really?" I asked excitedly. "What are they gonna do?"

"Oh, they've got help," he said evasively. "Some...friends are pitching in." Something about the way he said _friends_ caught my attention.

"What, more nomads?" I asked.

"Not really," he said, kissing the inside of my wrist and working his way up my arm. I could tell he was trying to distract me from whatever the real issue was. And it was _totally_ working.

Later, after we tried a move I had heard referred to as "the reverse cowgirl", I asked Edward if I could borrow his phone to call Alice, knowing that if I used mine to call someone not on my family plan it would incur roaming charges that might make Charlie suspicious. He tossed it to me and went whistling into the kitchen to start on dinner.

In my ever-present clumsiness, instead of hitting the _Contacts_ button, I hit the _Recent History_ button. I was about to try again when I noticed a name, a few calls down, which _definitely_ didn't belong there.

Staring up at me from the screen were the words _Billy Black_.

Okay, what the hell was Edward doing talking to Jake's dad?

* * *

Over the next week, I did the following three things on a loop: worried about what was going on back at home, boinked the brains out of my insanely hot boyfriend, and saw to basic survival needs like eating and sleeping. There was a small part of me that wondered whether I would ever get to go home. I'd never seen the formidable James, but he was giving six Cullens and five Denalis a run for their money, even with Laurent helping them out.

Every time that Edward and I made love, a small voice in the back of my mind wondered if this was it, the last happiness I got to have before some new nightmare began, as they always seemed to do where I was involved. I could tell Edward was thinking the same thing, from the way he clung to me as I drifted off to sleep afterward.

And then, without warning or fanfare, it was over.

I woke up one morning to the sight of Edward, beaming at me in the early sunshine.

"Alice called," he said. "We can go home."

"We can?" I said groggily, my half-asleep brain straining to accept this thing I had feared would never happen.

Edward nodded. "Come on, Sleepybella," he said, lifting me in both arms, the sheets still wrapped around my body. "Bathtime. Then home time!" I giggled, delight and relief spreading like the heat of a fire throughout my body. James was dead. The nightmare was over. We could go home. Suddenly I forgot about all the fear and anxiety that had defined our stay at Isle Esme, and thought only of all the good that had happened there. And oh, how good it was.

Only a few hours later, we were snuggled together on a first-class flight back to Forks. How different this felt, how magical! Finally, life could go back to normal.

* * *

Life would never go back to normal.

I called my dad before I boarded the last leg of our flight back to Washington. We'd been careful to buy tickets that brought us through Florida, so that when I gave him my flight number he wouldn't be suspicious. I could tell from the tone of his voice that something was wrong, and immediately I knew he must have caught me. Had he called Renee? Tracked my phone calls somehow? Had someone let something slip?

But he didn't say anything about it on the phone, although he promised to be waiting for me at SeaTac when my flight got in. I spent the last forty-five minutes of that flight an absolute ball of nerves. Edward couldn't even walk out past the security gate with me, or my dad's suspicions would be confirmed and I'd _really_ get it. When we touched down, I shouldered the massive carry-on which I'd stuffed with the underwear and souvenirs we'd bought in Rio, and my favorites of the dresses I'd worn while I was down there (Esme had assured me that they were mine, on the condition that I let her see how they looked on me).

Walking toward my father through the airport, I felt like I was walking to my own funeral. He was going to give me so much shit. I'd be grounded for the rest of my life. I would have to start learning how to sneak around like a _real_ teenager.

Except that I was wrong. It was worse than that. So, so much worse.

"Hey, Bells," said my dad hoarsely, enveloping me in his arms before I even had a chance to put down my bag. I hugged him back awkwardly, one-armed. I heard a sniffle and pulled back to look at him. That was when I realized he didn't look angry. Not at all.

"Dad?" I said, my heart plummeting. "What is it? What happened?"

"It's Billy," he said, clearly fighting back tears. "He's dead."

* * *

******You may have noticed that my Alice 1. Makes most of the clothes she puts on her family and 2. Lets them wear everything multiple times. Get ready for a ridiculously long and impassioned rant, you guys.**

******As my Edward says, wearing clothes once and then giving them to Goodwill would be ridiculous. Also wasteful of our planet's finite resources, which I know is a big concern for him. **Smeyer often tells us that a Cullen is a genius at *insert MaGuffin here*, but doesn't back it up with even the most rudimentary research. She did it with Edward and music, and with Carlisle and doctoring, and she does it with Alice and fashion. As someone who derives much creative satisfaction and _all of my livelihood_ from a subset of the fashion industry, I take personal offense at the way Smeyer portrays people who value fashion, like we all must be shallow materialistic junkies. First off: why give Alice fashion and international business degrees if she doesn't actually design, make or sell anything herself? Shopping at Prada does not a designer make, and only a person with poor taste thinks that "good taste" merely equals "expensive". As far as I can tell, Alice doesn't have any emotional or creative connection to fashion at all. If she actually loved fashion, if it were truly a meaningful part of her life, she would appreciate the complex relationship between wearer and garment; **she would value the clothes she owns**. When Alice treats Bella like an object to hang clothes on and ignores Bella's deep discomfort with her selections, she shows that she doesn't understand fashion; her refusal to wear anything more than once shows that she doesn't care about it. What's more, her sartorial binge/purge cycle is _clearly_ disordered, compulsive behavior. It isn't fashion, it's mental illness. 

**"But wait!" you might be saying. "Donating to charity is a good thing! Isn't that what you're always jawing on about?" But let's think about it, even if Smeyer didn't. Most of Goodwill's clothing is priced without prior valuation by trained appraisers, so the types of things Alice would be donating (things that are still new, still trendy, and expensive to begin with) would likely be sold for pennies on the dollar. That's if it sells at all; Forks is a tiny town with a small population. Unless each Cullen has a resident doppelganger in size and style, most of that shit won't get bought and will end up being sold in bulk to be shredded and turned into rags. Let's assume volunteers at the Forks Goodwill do recognize the value of Alice's donations, and put them up for auction on Goodwill's website. Go ahead, visit the site. I'll wait.**

**Did you look? See what all that designer stuff sells for? _Pennies on the dollar_. Best case scenario, Alice's donations of three-thousand-plus outfits per year get sold for a _tiny_ fraction of their value. It would be better for Goodwill if Alice sold the Cullen cast-offs at consignment and donated that money instead; better yet would be to buy half as many outfits and donate the astronomically large sum of money saved. **

**There's more. Wearing that Agent Provocateur bra once and then donating it to Goodwill doesn't even come _close_ to offsetting the chemical waste and greenhouse gases its manufacture dumped into the environment, the hours of near-slave-wage labor that went into drafting, weaving, cutting, stitching, and embellishing it, or the fuel required to ship it from the factory to her front door. I'll be fair, in donating everything after one wear, Alice isn't doing the _very worst thing she could do_. She's technically only doing the _second_-worst thing.**

**Alice uses Goodwill as "a band-aid for her guilt" so that she never has to endure the indignity of wearing the same thing twice. How does anyone like this awful girl? WHY ARE WE ROOTING FOR THESE PEOPLE? I almost wish she would just own up to her own entitlement and burn the stuff in front of some shoeless orphans.**


	6. Secrets and Poor Judgment

**Hello, friends! So, my computer has passed beyond this vale of tears. I fully intend to get back to all of your wonderful reviews, but it's going to take some time. But don't worry, faithful reviewers! I haven't forgotten you! And I will try to stay regular on updates, but if I don't, you know why. The story will still get _posted_, it just may not be posted like clockwork.**

* * *

We drove most of the way back to Forks in silence. Every time my dad opened his mouth to speak, he shut it again quickly. I'd never seen him so visibly torn up before; he was usually more the stoic type. But then again, he'd never lost his oldest friend before.

We parked in the driveway and Charlie carried my bag inside, then slumped on the couch with his hands over his eyes to block out the light from the overhead. I quickly set about making tea, because it seemed like the sort of thing you do in a situation like this. Then I brought out two mugs, placed one in front of Charlie on the coffee table and one in front of me, and waited.

My dad took a few sips of tea, even though it was still way too hot, and then wrapped his hands around the mug. He had to be burning himself on the hot ceramic, but he didn't say anything about it. Finally, after a few false starts, he began to talk.

"There've been all these attacks on the rez ever since you left. We thought they were animals at first, but they began to seem related…"

My eyes widened and I had to bite back a cry of alarm. _Attacks?_ On the _rez?_ "What happened next?" I asked fearfully, since Charlie seemed in no hurry to continue.

"Well, at first it was a couple of kids on the rez. I didn't know 'em personally, one of 'em wasn't even from here, she was visiting from Makah. Then her niece turned up dead, a real little thing, just a toddler. Then Jared Cameron and Sam Uley turned up dead—I don't know if you remember Sam, he was Leah Clearwater's boyfriend—and that was when we started thinkin' maybe these weren't random animal killings, because the Makah girls were both related to the Clearwaters, and Jared and Sam and Leah have always been thick as thieves. And then, last night, Billy was attacked by the...whatever it was. Tore out his throat, didn't leave barely anything for the buzzards…"

"Oh my god," I whispered, wrapping my arm around him. "I'm so sorry, Dad… Is...how's Jake?"

"Dunno," he said hollowly. "nobody's seen him since before Billy was attacked. We're worried he's...he might be…"

"He's alive," I said automatically, not because I had any reason to think he might be but because I felt I would know if Jacob Black were killed. The whole _world_ would know. The sun would go out. "He's...he'll turn up, Dad. He will. Did you ever find the, um...thing that did this?"

"This afternoon my deputies found a grizzly, shot dead just inside the border. It had some things in its stomach…"

"I understand," I cut in quickly. "You don't have to go into detail."

"But it can't have been random," said Charlie, taking another gulp of tea. "I just keep goin' over it and over it, and it _can't_ have been random. It's too interconnected. Out of six dead, four can be traced directly back to Harry and Billy. Jake's missin'. There is _something_ going on, something is real fucked up over there…"

"But it's over now," I said. "Isn't it over now?" Then, because it occurred to me I shouldn't let my dad know how much I already knew about the situation, I added feebly, "I mean, the bear that did it's dead, right? Doesn't that mean it's over?"

"I doubt it," said Charlie. "I think the bear's incidental. Maybe it just found some free eatin' in the forest. Maybe someone was siccin' it on people. I don't think this is over yet, Bells, and I don't want you setting foot on that rez until I know what happened, you hear me?"

"But—" I protested, panic rising as I thought of what that meant. "What about Jake, Dad? When he turns up, I have to go see him…" _He'll turn up,_ my brain repeated in anxious circles. _He'll turn up. Jake'll turn up_. "He'll _need_ me," I finished, gulping back a sob as I thought of what he must be going through. Wherever he was.

"I don't know," said Charlie. "I think this might be a drug thing, Bells. He could be in—"

"Jake is _not_ involved in drugs, Dad," I said with furious certainty. "Billy wasn't. How can you say that? How can you even _think_ it?"

"Bella," said Charlie, putting his mug down and standing up. "I love that kid almost as much as if he were my own kin. Lord knows Billy was more'n a brother to me. You know I don't say these things lightly. But I know what it looks like, and I know what goes on. My first priority is to keep everyone in Forks safe. If it's drugs, we'll get him the help he needs, and we'll keep him alive, and we'll be there for him. I'm not gonna throw him to the wolves, but if it _is_ drugs, I'm not gonna turn a blind eye, either. No one else dies, not here." His voice cracked on the last word and I realized how exhausted he looked.

"Come on, Dad," I said, standing up too. "You should go to bed. It's already eleven. Is there...anything I can do?" _Other than attract vicious serial murderers to make a buffet of our closest friends and neighbors..._

"Just...stay safe, will ya, Bells?" he said. "I'm gonna be paranoid and insist that you start checkin' in with me. It didn't matter as much with you on the other side of the country, but I need you to at least shoot me a text or somethin' every couple hours, just so I know you're not...so I know you're safe. Till we get this sorted out, that's all. And I don't want you goin' anywhere near the rez. You stay at home or in town at all times. I don't suppose you feel like going back to Jacksonville for a spell, till it blows over…" He tried to make it sound like a joke, but we both knew there was nothing to joke about.

"Don't worry about me," I said. "I'll either be here or at the Cullens' place. School starts up in a couple days. You'll always know where to find me, okay? And Jake'll turn up, and it'll...it'll be okay. Eventually."

"Sure," said Charlie. He locked the front door and a whole slew of shiny new deadbolts, and trudged wearily to bed.

After rinsing out our tea mugs, I went up to the bathroom and brushed my teeth and hair. I washed my face, slowly, deliberately. I was putting off what I knew would come next. And sure enough, as I pushed open the door to my bedroom, Edward was waiting for me.

"You knew about this," I said flatly, before he could say a word. Edward shrank in on himself.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he said. "I didn't realize how close your dad and Billy were—"

"Yes, you did," I said, anger welling up. It was almost a relief, to be angry instead of sad and terrified. "You _kept_ this from me, and you knew, you _knew_ how I would feel about it. You've seen his car in our driveway like a million times by now. You _know _no one else ever comes to visit my dad, they're practically brothers! Jake's my friend, Edward! I've known him forever, and you know it!"

Edward looked shocked at my outburst and put a finger to his lips, but I wasn't worried about my dad. A bottle of Nyquil had been sitting out on the bathroom counter, and he hadn't rinsed the cap. He wouldn't wake up until he had to. And I didn't blame him.

"I want you," I said sternly, "to tell me _everything_. I mean it. From the start. Don't even think about lying to me, Edward. Not now. Not after everything."

"Very well," he said quietly, sitting down on the edge of my bed. I considered sitting beside him—I wanted nothing more, in fact—but I knew if I did that I'd be a goner. He'd kept something big from me, something he knew would affect my family, and I needed to focus on _that_ and not his smell or the smoothness of his skin. Instead, I sat in the ancient rocking chair my dad had kept up here since I was little enough to need to be rocked to sleep. It had been my Nona Swan's chair—the daughter of the full-Quileute woman whose blood linked me to Jake and Billy.

"Now," I said. "Talk."

"It...it wasn't going well," he said weakly. "I know with a psychic and a dozen vampires, catching James should have been quick and easy, but… Well, for one thing, Victoria didn't sit this one out like we hoped she would."

"Victoria," I echoed. "The one who's good at escaping, right?"

"That's right," he said. "It should have been easy, but, remember, Victoria eluded The Volturi. _No one_ escapes the Volturi. Their tracker's the best in the world, the greatest tracker who's ever lived. And he's just one of many highly-skilled guards who make up Aro's army, and she evaded them all. She's a powerful creature, and I regret to say we underestimated her at first. It seems that Victoria's escape act operates almost solely on moment-to-moment instinct, rather than pre-determined choice, so Alice couldn't get a bead on her. But even that wouldn't have been a problem, if it weren't for the Quileutes."

I closed my eyes tightly. This was it. Billy, and Leah's boyfriend—how had they died?

"We formed a treaty with the tribal leaders in the Thirties," he said. "If we stay far away from their territory, and we don't turn, drain or otherwise harm any humans, they let us stay here without revealing our secret and thereby forcing us to move on. It's worked so far."

"Why even bother?" I asked. "It can't be the cloud cover. Why didn't you just leave when you saw you weren't welcome?" It came out harsher than I intended.

"Um…" Edward began indecisively. "Well, the first time we were here, we didn't know anything about them, and we had to convince them we weren't the bad guys. But we still left soon after, because it didn't seem right to just park on their doorstep like that. But then some...some _things _happened when we were living in Buffalo in the Nineties, and we wanted to live somewhere we felt safe. Somewhere familiar. And we'd never even gotten to live in the house Esme built here. It seemed perfect, coming back. We were happy here. My sister—" He cut off abruptly, and I wondered, once again, what he wasn't telling me. But this time I didn't pry. It was something to do with Rosalie, I was sure. After our heart-to-heart at the baseball game, I knew it must have been serious; she didn't seem the impulsive type. I let it go.

"Well," he went on, "James and Victoria apparently figured out that we couldn't go onto the reservation, and they set up camp there. Of course the first thing we did was inform the elders, and we begged them to revoke the treaty for a little while, so we could surround James and Victoria and put an end to this, but they didn't believe we weren't secretly working with the nomads. They thought we'd broken the treaty, and they split their energy between defending themselves against James and Victoria and fending off my family. James and Victoria made a couple of killings, and at that point my family was ready to just ignore the treaty and go after them anyway. But the Quileute leaders finally determined we were working _with _them and not against them, so they let our people onto the reservation voluntarily. The Denalis and Laurent set up a patrol just outside of the reservation, in case James and Victoria made a run for t."

"So," I said slowly, trying to form a picture in my head, something to connect me to these people who had died so needlessly. "How many were dead, at this point?"

"Three," he said. "Catherine Fellows, and Emily and Claire Young. My family worked as fast as they could. I'm told Emmett in particular was extraordinarily resourceful. He and the others finally found James. It...wasn't pretty, I'm told."

"And Victoria?" I asked. "Is she, um...taken care of, too?"

"Victoria escaped," said Edward heavily. "We would have gone after her, but Carlisle advised against it. Alice can see any future that may be a result of Victoria's decisions, but if we try to chase her down we will almost certainly never catch her. As long as Victoria doesn't _decide _to return, we thought it would be best to remain together, here at home."

"How did the other two die?" I asked. "Leah's boyfriend. And...Billy."

"They were in the line of fire," said Edward tersely.

"Poor Leah," I said hollowly. I remembered her. I hadn't seen her since she was a teenager, though she must in her twenties by now. She was acerbic and cynical, and I'd usually shied away from her in social gatherings, but once as a little thing I'd scraped my leg up running around in the woods during a cookout. She'd been the one to carry me back to the house, pour hydrogen peroxide down my leg and deftly bandage it up. At the time, all I'd thought of was the pain; I'd been angry at her for dumping that smelly fizzy stuff on me and making my scrape hurt worse. And now...her boyfriend, her uncle and two cousins dead, one cousin missing.

"This is all my fault," I breathed, struggling to inhale. Edward tried to come to me, but I held up a hand to stop him. I _should_ suffer; I could grieve all my life and I would never hurt as badly as Jake and Leah must right now. I'd never even considered that my involvement with the Cullens could hurt anyone but me. And now Jake was missing, and Billy was dead—

"How much of this did you know?" I asked. "That whole time we were on the island—did you know all of it?"

"Just bits and pieces," said Edward. "I knew the Quileutes were working against us, and then I found out when they started working with us, but I didn't get the full story until just now. I called Alice on my way over here."

"I can't believe you kept something this big from me," I moaned. "It must be a lot easier for you to keep secrets from me than it is for me—"

"It wasn't like that," pleaded Edward. "I wasn't trying to, to _trick_ you or anything, but you had so much on your plate already, and I—"

"Oh, so I can't deal with the truth because I'm what, a _girl?_ A _human?_ What the hell is this, Edward?"

"Bella, you know I don't think that way! Besides, what difference does it make if you found out two weeks ago or now? What could you possibly have done about it other than worry?"

"_I would have called Jake!_" I exploded. I clapped my hand over my mouth, but there was no sound from Charlie's room. "I would have called and _explained_ to him so that he didn't have to find out by having everyone around him just start dropping like flies! How traumatic do you think that must have been, Edward? No wonder he ran away!" _Jake'll turn up, Jake'll turn up…_

"Would knowing really have made a difference?" argued Edward. "Nothing would have changed. Billy knew about it, and he stayed put. He still would have been killed, and if _he _didn't see fit to tell Jake—"

"The problem with you, Edward," I said coldly, "is that you don't think about the feelings of us little people." I closed my eyes so the hurt look on his face couldn't derail me. "Maybe it wouldn't have made any material difference, maybe everything would have turned out _exactly the same_, but at least Jake would have known what was going on, he would have known he has one more person in his corner, he's not the only one scared. That's what friends _do_ for each other. We could have at least _talked_ about it."

"I'm sorry, Bella," said Edward mournfully. "I didn't think you would take it so hard."

I rolled my eyes. "That's why you need to tell me these things," I said. "Your judgment obviously can't be trusted when it comes to recognizing stuff I'm gonna care about." Even I knew this was a low blow, and also inaccurate. This was the first time since we'd been together that Edward had ever been less-than-forthcoming with me, and a little part of me acknowledged that it was an easy mistake to make. Whatever the outcome, his intentions at least had been kind. But for some reason these thoughts only made me angrier. My emotions felt totally out of whack and beyond my control. I was consumed by an instinct to protect Jake, to see him again and comfort him, which was so strong it was a little frightening. I felt like I was hanging on to my self-control for dear life, and my grip was slipping.

"I want you to go, please," I said, standing up. Edward looked at me, stricken, and my heart twisted. "Now," I added. Wordlessly he left by the window. I pulled out my cell phone and scrolled through the _Contacts_ to Jake's home phone number. He didn't have a cell phone, and I doubted he would have returned to his empty, dark house. But I called anyway. Billy's voice was still on the answering machine.

By the time he was done telling me, _"You know what to do at the beep,"_ I was crying too hard to leave a message.

* * *

I didn't fall asleep until well past three in the morning, and I slept so uneasily that I woke at seven, feeling sick to my stomach. I barely made it to the bathroom before I was heaving over the toilet, not that there was anything in my stomach to come out. Even so, I dry-heaved silently for several minutes before I heard a tentative knock on the bathroom door.

"Bells?" came my dad's hoarse voice. "You okay, kiddo? You been in there a while and I have to get ready for work..."

"Yeah, Dad," I rasped, flushing what little bile had emerged and opening the door.

"Want breakfast before I leave for work? I already started oatmeal, but I can double the batch…"

"Will you put raisins in before the milk heats up?"

"Sure thing," said Charlie. He went off to the kitchen, already dressed and ready for the day. I, on the other hand, felt pretty much like reheated crap. I wrapped myself in my coziest robe—a chenille-lined silky thing that Alice had made me for my birthday. Even in summer, Forks didn't really warm up till late afternoon, and not by much. Besides, I needed to feel something silky and comforting next to my skin. I wasn't used to sleeping without Edward.

I felt much better after eating breakfast, but as soon as Charlie left and I tried to lie down again, I felt every bite of oatmeal making the return journey up my esophagus. By the time I was done hurling all of it out, I was so shaky and tired that I just rinsed my mouth out with water and passed out.

* * *

**I told you I don't like the James storyline****. Done and done!**

**Bella and Edward aren't very good at fighting yet. They need more practice. I tend to become suspicious of love stories that rely too heavily on _But we never ever fight!_ as a gauge of how much two people love each other or how successful their relationship is. If you live with someone long enough, you will definitely fight. The real gauge of your strength as a couple is the _way_ you fight. Do the values and wishes of both partners receive equal consideration? Do you fight efficiently, focusing chiefly on the disagreement at hand? Do you fight with your emotions or your head? There are a lot of ways to fight constructively, of course, but the circular fighting Bella and Edward did in the book doesn't strike me as symptomatic of a strong, egalitarian relationship. Mostly it was Edward dictating Bella's life/schedule/friends, and her digging her heels in briefly before accepting his supremacy and following his wishes. He would occasionally give an inch (permitting her to continue being friends with Jake on a limited basis, their asinine "deal" concerning marriage/sex/vampirism/college) which Bella invariably and wrongly took as a sign of victory. She rarely stuck to her guns, and many things that should have been huge red flags she never objected to at all. For example, she never fought with him about the fact that he was a pervy, eavesdropping, serial murdering stalker. In a good relationship, I would have expected that to come up.**

**In the books, their arguments go something like this:**

**In _New Moon_, Bella wants to be with Edward in spite of the danger, but he doesn't, so they don't.**

**In _Eclipse_, Bella wants to be friends with Jake, but Edward will only allow it if he can make up a daily schedule for her, then drop her off and pick her up at the rez like she's a pre-schooler going to a playdate.**

**Bella doesn't want to get married, but Edward does, so they do.**

**Bella wants to be transformed into a vampire ASAP, but Edward disagrees with her reasoning, values and wishes for her own life and body, so it doesn't happen until she has almost died several times from "humanness", and even then only as a last resort.**

**And so on, and so on. I'm largely talking about this because the final three books of the series are full of Bella and Edward disagreeing with each other (or sniping, or nagging, or carping, choose your verb), and I plan to take full advantage of that. Only I plan to do it in a way that doesn't make me want to put my face through a wall. I may even go really crazy and not end every argument with "And it turned out Edward was right as usual, because his genitals are on the outside".**


	7. So That's Weird

School resumed a few days after I returned, and by then I was chafing to go back among normal people. I changed my tune about ten minutes after I pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine on the Thing. As Chief Swan's daughter _and_ Jake's close friend, I was considered by all to be a veritable font of information—never mind that I refused to say a word about it to anyone. Even if it hadn't been a big Volturi no-no, I would never have turned Jake's heartbreak into some kind of gossip-fest.

What was surprising was that Jessica, usually one of the gossipiest people at school, came quickly to my defense.

"Give it a rest," she'd say to whoever had turned into my path _just to chat_. "Can't you see we're busy?"

She and Angela noticed instantly that Edward and I were in the middle of some sort of fight. Although he continued to sit with us at lunch, he mostly talked to the other guys. Every now and then I would catch him staring morosely at me. Neither of us could put on a happy facade. But we weren't entirely willing to drift apart, either. I was still furious at him, but my fury felt strange and alien to me. It had to be my anxiety about Jake.

All I could tell my friends was that I'd gone to Jacksonville to visit my mom over break, and Edward had left the whole rez-under-attack thing out of our phone sex sessions. Putting it like that, my anger seemed even less rational, and I began to feel ashamed of how crazy I was acting. But whatever they really thought about my sanity, Jessica and Angela never did anything but nod sympathetically when I tried to explain my feelings.

On my lunch breaks I would call Jake. Then call him again as soon as I got home. Spend the afternoon doing busywork around the house, call Jake. Wait for my dad to come home and tell me they hadn't located Jake yet, make a dinner that neither of us did more than fiddle with, go to bed. Call Jake three times before I could fall asleep. On day two my dad and I attended Billy's funeral. Jake's absence was conspicuous. Leah was there, but she left before I could give her a hug. It was probably just as well. Even if she didn't specifically know it was my fault her entire support network had just been murdered, I was probably the wrong person to comfort her.

To complicate matters, all this time my stomach couldn't make up its mind between hunger and nausea. I'd obviously picked something up in Brazil. As much as I'd tried to avoid drinking or eating anything Edward didn't certify was okay, I had succumbed to some incredibly appetizing pork thingies at a street cart on our way to the airport. They hadn't disagreed with me at the time, but I was wondering if I'd caught a mild case of food poisoning. The only thing I could reliably keep down was dry toast or plain oatmeal made with water and no raisins. Even when the nausea wasn't troubling me, I had constant acid reflux. I kept all this from my dad, though. He didn't need one more thing to worry about. Angela informed me sagely it was probably stress heartburn. Edward and I had never had a fight last so long before. I fugured she was probably right.

I knew I was being irrational—he'd done what he thought was best, and deep down I knew it wasn't because he thought me too simple to handle difficult things. But I had convinced myself that if only I'd known about all of this, I could have reached out to Jake, somehow kept him from bolting. I had a feeling that I would forgive Edward the minute I saw Jake again, but until I at least knew he was safe, I couldn't stop mentally replaying all the _could-have-beens_ that Edward had kept from me. Every night while I lay alone in my bed, I would feel an upswell of love for Edward and go almost numb with my longing to hold him again. But as soon as I picked up my phone, I found myself calling Jake's house instead, and then the inexplicable anger would be back.

* * *

On Saturday, ten days after my return, I couldn't take it anymore. I was doing the dishes from the night before, and a glass slipped in the soapy water. It broke, and one of the shards pierced my middle finger, drawing blood. Without thinking I stuck it in my mouth. Instead of the nausea that blood usually instilled in me, it tasted...sort of delicious. Actually, really delicious. When I finally noticed what I was doing, I pulled my finger slowly out of my mouth and stared at it like it had personally offended me. _This is it_, I thought. _I've lost my mind_. My worry about Jake, my traitorous longing for Edward, my sorrow over Billy, and Leah, and that poor little girl—they'd all gotten to me, and now I was finally cracking. Astonishing that it had taken all of ten days, really. Very carefully, I carried the broken glass over to the garbage and dropped it in. Then I went back to the sink, deliberately broke another glass, then another. One by one, I shattered every single dish in the sink, and I was turning past the window to begin on the dishes in the cupboards when a movement in the woods behind the house caught my notice. Whatever it was looked furtive. Ignoring my now-shredded hands, I stomped out the back door and started yelling at the woods.

"What now, Edward?" I screamed, an insane note in my voice. "What, are you skulking around my house, now? You know what to do to get me to stop ignoring you, right? _Bring me back my Jake and I'll start returning your fucking phone calls! BRING HIM BACK, BRING—HIM—BACK!"_

Out of breath, I collapsed on the frostbitten lawn, mere yards away from the trees, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Jake, Jake, goddammit, Jake, _come back_," I moaned into my bloody hands.

That was when I heard the growl.

My head whipped up. It had come from the trees. It was an overcast day, of course, and I couldn't see a thing in there, but was that an ominous rustle coming from between those two cedars?

"...Edward?" I said hesitantly. "Is that you?" I stood and walked shakily through the treeline. It took my eyes a moment to adjust, and my heart was pounding erratically from fear. I'd heard vampires make a variety of predatory sounds; they were capable of anything from hissing to low growls, but nothing as low as this. I peered through the gloom, and caught a moving shadow a few yards away. I made my way determinedly toward it, heedless of the unbelievable stupidity of what I was doing.

"Victoria," I said as evenly as my shaking voice could manage, "if that's you, I'd like you to know that you really, _really_ suck. If you two'd just died when you were supposed to…" I trailed off, my throat too dry to continue.

There it was again, the growl. It _couldn't_ be Victoria. It was utterly spine-chilling, and very, very deep, too deep to come from human-sized lungs. I pushed aside some ferns and my eyes finally adjusted. And then I saw it.

A massive creature, grey-furred and shaped like a wolf, but the size of a small horse, was staring at me through the gloom. Something buried deep in my belly gave a backflip, and I felt a thrill of terror and inexplicable joy, staring into the creature's eyes.

I remembered the conversation I had had with Jake almost a year ago, when I'd first heard of the Cold Ones. There had been another half to that story: the werewolves, the ancient enemies of the Cold Ones, who had signed a treaty with the Cullens. Just how true was that story? Which was less likely, that this massive thing was an ordinary wolf, or that werewolves were _real?_

And did it even matter? This thing was _dangerous_, that much was plain. I was in mortal danger. I was more scared than I'd been the first time Edward confirmed his vampirism to me. I was more scared than I'd been the time he'd almost cannibalized me, in Alice's sewing room. There is something deeply-rooted, something primal and inexorable, an instinct which tells a human being that it must never ever _ever_ come within striking distance of fur and claws and teeth like this. It was all I could do not to faint. My heart was beating way too fast, and my vision went hazy for several seconds while my mind tried to blot out what it was seeing, replace it with something I could at least understand.

Just as the adrenaline was reaching my limbs—pumping through them, preparing them to flee and save me from this nightmare creature—a shaft of light broke through the treetops and struck the creature's face, and I saw its eyes more clearly. Black, unnervingly human in that inhuman face, but somehow warm, almond-shaped and widely set. I knew those eyes. I would know those eyes anywhere.

"Jake," I breathed. Every nerve in my body was screaming at me to run, but I couldn't do it. I took one step forward, and then another. The wolf let out a growl that shook the ground under my feet. I took another step.

_Jake Jake Jake_, I thought while my feet carried me closer and closer. The wolf bared its teeth and snarled. I had never been a dog person, but even I knew what this meant: _Stay away, you are not welcome._

I took two more steps, and the wolf was within reach, growling and vibrating so that fur and pine needles drifted down from its hide. I reached out one hand, slowly, slowly, and rested my fingers along the crest of its head.

"Jake," I whispered, looking into its eyes, those black eyes which had always crinkled with delight to see me, and which now glared more fiercely than the midday sun in Phoenix. I had never in my life been more afraid than I was in this moment, confronted by this monster so powerful it looked like it could snap me in its jaws without thinking. But I couldn't turn away.

The wolf was vibrating, _really_ vibrating, harder and harder, a triple-time version of a dog shaking off water, and it shook so hard it shook me right away from it. I fell backward, landing with a painful thud on my butt. The wolf went on shaking until somehow it shook itself right out of its fur, shook itself down to skin and bones and human muscles and a head of black hair and two almond-shaped eyes that had seen far too much death, and Jake was curled up moaning on the forest floor, his arms around his knees, his head tucked between them.

"Jake!" I yelped, scrambling forward to throw my body over his. He was naked and steaming; his flesh almost burned me where I touched it, so different from Edward's smooth coldness, but I didn't let go, I just wrapped myself around him and held him as hard as I could.

"Bella," he moaned, his voice a symphony of pain. "I saw him get killed, his blood was still on his face when I, _I tasted his blood when it_—"

"Ssh," I hushed him, stroking his hair and the back of his neck with my fingers. "Jake, sweetpea, you did so good, you were so brave…" _Sweetpea_, I called him, over and over again. The name my mother used for me when I was sick, or sad, or hurting, back when our age gap was wide enough for her to attempt to mother me instead of the other way around. After a moment he twisted in my arms and reached around my neck, clinging to me for dear life. We crouched there on the forest floor for a long time, wrapped up in each other, both of us shuddering with almost-sobs.

"Hey," I said, tilting my face back to look at him. He looked older, the childish plumpness fallen from his face, his features more chiseled and defined. And his body took up an enormous amount of space in my arms, all the stringy skinniness replaced with thick hard muscles that would have put Emmett to shame. He had become massive, and he didn't look at all as young as he ought. "Hey, Jake," I said softly. "I—"

"You don't understand," he whimpered, cutting me off. "Everything's so fucked up, I don't know how I'm ever going to go back, everything's just, he's dead and it _all my fault_, I wasn't there in time, if I'd just been there sooner—"

"I know," I said, even though I didn't. I went on stroking his hair. It was a little shorter than last time I'd seen him, but not by much. There were twigs in it. "I know, sweetpea, I know…"

"Bella," he whimpered, looking at me, "what am I supposed to _do?_"

"I don't know, Jake," I said. "Just...do what you always do, I guess."

"What I always do?" he gulped. "I always take care of him. What else is there?"

"Come see me," I suggested. "Come have dinner with me and Charlie. Go to school. Where are you living now? I mean…where are you going to live?"

"Leah thinks I should move in with her," he said morosely. "And I have some...other family now, too."

"You should," I said decisively. "Leah's good. You know she's good. You should stay with her. Maybe she needs you as much as you need her, you know? After what happened to Sam…"

"Yeah, Sam," he said. "Right. _Sam_."

I was about to ask what his tone was all about, but something interrupted me.

"Are you _lost_, Jacob?" hollered an unfamiliar male voice. I looked up to see a stranger, tanned and massive, striding through the trees toward us. "You run off on me again like that and I'll thump you," he said, advancing on Jake. My eyes narrowed.

"Hey, now," I said defensively, "he just—"

"Don't tell me what _he just_," the man said cruelly, turning to glare daggers at me. "You know nothing of this world you live in, little girl. Come, Jake." As intimidating as his physique was, nothing could scare me as much as the vitriol in the strange giant's words. He really, _really_ hated me.

"Come with me now, my brother," he murmured tenderly to Jake, and I was so startled to hear the softness in his voice that I didn't fight him as he led my friend away from me, covering his nakedness from view with his body.

Jake practically went limp, let the stranger guide him away without even a backward glance. But the giant wasn't quite done with me—not yet.

"Oh, little girl?" he said, turning one last time to glare at me. "You _are _aware you have two heartbeats?" Then he turned away, and he and Jake were out of sight within seconds.

"Two heartbeats…?" I echoed cluelessly.

_Huh?_

* * *

My discomfiture over the big guy's weird behavior and even weirder parting blow (was that supposed to be an insult? Or had seeing Jake again really thrown my heartbeat off to the point where it sounded like two? _That_ I could believe) didn't last long. Jake was alive! He'd come home! I felt a thrill of relief flooding my body as I ran back through the trees to my house. I snatched my cell phone out of my pocket and called Edward with trembling fingers.

_"Bella?"_ he answered on the first ring, his voice tense with worry. _"What's wrong?"_

"Nothing's wrong!" I exclaimed jubilantly. "Jake's back, Edward! He came back! He's alive! I'm probably going to give you hell pretty soon for keeping the existence of _real live werewolves_ from me, but right now I am just _so so happy!_"

Even knowing that he'd gone on hiding things from me after I specifically requested the truth wasn't quite enough to burst my bubble of relieved joy. Time for all that later. "Edward, listen, I'm sorry I was so...I'm sorry I shut you out like that. I was just so worried. I don't know, I haven't really been feeling like myself lately, I've been acting weird about everything, not just you. I think it's this stupid bug I picked up in Brazil—"

_"Bug?"_ Edward asked sharply. _"What bug?"_

"Oh, just some food poisoning," I sighed. "I think I got it off that cart where I got those crunchy pork things. It's not a big deal, but I think with that on top of Jake going missing...I don't know."

_"Bella,"_ said Edward urgently, _"If you're sick you need to have my dad check you out. It could be serious. Can I come pick you up in half an hour?"_

"It's a longer drive than that to my house," I laughed, gay and light as a feather now that Jake was safe.

_"I'll drive fast,"_ he promised. _"Just don't go anywhere."_

"Okay," I said happily. "Love you, Edward. See you soon!"

After I hung up, I texted my dad to let him know I was going over to the Cullens' house. Then I took a perfunctory shower, dressed and bandaged my hands as best I could, and then waited on the porch for Edward.

He pulled into my driveway only twenty-seven minutes after we'd hung up, and sprinted to my side without even attempting to make it look human.

"Bella," he murmured, embracing me closely. I nuzzled against him, parked my nose right under his chin and just breathed as deeply as I could. He smelled so good, felt so right in my arms. I couldn't believe I'd gone ten whole days without seeing him. Right now I felt like I had a grasshopper doing somersaults in my stomach, I was so happy to see him again.

"Ow," I said, jerking away for a second and covering my abdomen with my hand. There it was again, that twinge, like a grasshopper doing a backflip in my belly.

"What is it?" Edward asked, guiding me carefully over to the passenger seat of his Beemer.

"Oh, nothing," I said. "Just the usual. I swear, this bug cannot possibly go away fast enough. I'm totally functional, but I am hungry _all the time_ because I can't keep anything down. Right now I feel like I literally have bugs in there. Sizeable ones."

"You sound like you have bugs in there," said Edward, looking worriedly at my belly. "If you picked up a parasite in South America I'll never forgive myself—"

"Relax, Edward," I giggled. "Your dad can fix anything! _'Just take one of these, three times a day,'_ I said, trying to copy Carlisle's calm, slow voice. _'Tincture of mercury for the nausea, and suckling pig's milk for the reflux. Toe of newt and eye of slug, tooth of nail and hair of dog!'_"

Edward laughed at my goofy impersonation. "I think my dad's medical degree is a _little_ more up-to-date than that," he said, smiling fondly at me.

We drove to the hospital, joking and laughing the whole way. It felt right, being with Edward again. No wonder I'd been all freaked-out and paranoid, without him around to keep me sane. Edward was very good for my anxiety levels.

He brought me straight back into Carlisle's office without even pausing to knock. He steered me to the couch in the corner and hovered anxiously over me while Carlisle walked around the desk to sit beside me.

"So," said Carlisle, smiling as if this were a social visit. "I hear you've been suffering from some heartburn and nausea since returning from Brazil. Is that right?" I nodded. "How else would you characterize your recent state of health?" he asked. "Now's the time to tell me about anything that feels different. Any new patterns or routines that might be affecting you?"

I shrugged. "I mean," I said, "I actually think it was mostly nerves. I feel great right now. I was really freaking out about Jake, and the funeral was really tough… Let's see. I've been really hungry, but if I even try to eat anything other than toast or oatmeal it comes back up in about two minutes, and I've lost like five pounds since we got back. I can sort of keep the heartburn under control with a lot of water. I was taking Tums but I just yakked them back up. Um, I've been sleeping really restlessly, but again, I think that's just the anxiety…" I struggled to remember anything pertinent. I wanted to get this horse-and-pony show over, so Carlisle could prescribe me something for my daily puke-a-thon and Edward and I could go have makeup sex, and then fight about werewolves, and then have _more_ makeup sex. "Oh," I added, "there is one more thing. I don't know if it's important—"

"Go ahead and tell me," said Carlisle with a smile. "Anything you can think of will be helpful."

"Well," I said, feeling silly, "I sort of tore up my hands earlier—" I held up the Band-Aid-covered appendages and made a face. They still smelled like blood, and I still sort of wanted to lick them like a couple of giant lollipops. That was...odd. "I usually get really sick at the smell of blood, but this time...oh god, this is so embarrassing…"

"You can tell me anything," said Carlisle. "Would you prefer that Edward leave the room?"

I shook my head. "No, he can stay," I said. "It's just...the blood smells really good to me right now. It...it sort of smells savory, and...well, I put my hand in my mouth when I first cut it, and it tasted really good and buttery or something. I mean, it didn't taste like butter _per se_, it tasted more the way butter smells when it's melting, if a smell could be a taste. That's not normal, right? Well...for a human that's not normal."

"That would seem to fall under the category of 'unusual developments'," said Carlisle. "I'll just take your temperature and have a peek at your pulse, if you don't mind." While Carlisle gathered the apperati he needed—thankfully stopping just short of calipers—Edward sat next to me and squeezed my hand, very gently so as not to hurt it. He gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek and smiled reassuringly.

"Here we go," said Carlisle, returning. He placed the thermometer under my tongue and held my wrist loosely, listening for my pulse with his bare ears. Something seemed to trouble him; he shook his head a couple of times like he was trying to clear his ears, and then finally took the stethoscope from around his neck and placed it over my heart.

"That's better," he said. "Ordinarily this is only a prop, but even my ears aren't perfect and I'm getting a lot of background noise—"

He stopped, listened in silence, shook his head again. He looked baffled.

"Dad?" said Edward tentatively. "What is it?"

Carlisle put his finger to his lips and Edward fell silent. Then, almost as if he couldn't believe what he was doing, Carlisle lowered the stethoscope from my ribcage to my lower abdomen. His eyes shot up to meet mine. I felt Edward stiffen beside me as his sensitive ears apparently picked up whatever Carlisle's did.

"Dad?" he whispered. "Is that—?"

"Bella," said Carlisle with a studied evenness. "Is there any chance you could be pregnant?"

I let out an incredulous laugh. "Hell no!" I exclaimed. I turned to Edward, but he wasn't laughing as much as I thought he should be. He looked a little worried. Good lord, what was going on in my torso that was freaking them both out so much? "Edward, come on," I said, jabbing him in the ribs with my elbow. "You can't possibly think I've been with anyone other than you—tell me you don't actually think that."

"I don't think that," said Edward faintly, his eyes wide.

"Well, good, because I was about to—" I cut off abruptly. The stethoscope. The nausea. The heartburn. _Two heartbeats_.

"But...I haven't been with anyone else," I said a little hysterically. "I really haven't, and besides, we were only apart for _ten days_—"

"Bella," said Edward, putting his hand over mine, "I _really don't think that_."

"But you two _have _been...sexually active?" asked Carlisle. I stared up at the ceiling, feeling unbelievably embarrassed. Great, now I had to fess up to my boyfriend's doctor father about our elicit rolls in the hay.

"Yeah," I said, not making eye contact with anyone in the room. "Everyone said vampires can't get pregnant, though, so..."

"Vampires _can't _get pregnant," said Carlisle certainly. I felt a little slump of relief. "Then again," he said, "you're not a vampire, are you?" I stared at him.

"Oh god," I whispered. "Oh god oh god oh god oh god oh—"

"But Dad," said Edward, "Rosalie did all those tests, she said it's definitely not compatible DNA—"

"Rosalie didn't control for every single outside factor," said Carlisle. "For example, she never tested compatibility between a vampire and a cantante…"

"What's a _cantante_?" I asked, looking between them, trying to focus on small things before my brain had to give in and accept this big thing.

"A singer," said Edward curtly.

"Oh."

"Well," said Carlisle briskly, standing up. "First thing before we become fixated on this diagnosis, you should take a simple pregnancy test."

"Dad..." said Edward helplessly, looking at his father.

"No reason we shouldn't be absolutely sure," said Carlisle. I got the feeling they were having a conversation to which I wasn't privy, not being a mind-reader or, for that matter, a person with a readable mind.

Ten minutes later, no one could even feign uncertainty. The three of us sat there on the couch, staring at that unholy pink plus sign on the pee-covered stick in my hand. No one breathed.

Just under my stomach, a grasshopper did backflips.

* * *

**I'm sure most of you realized this was coming, after all the sex on Isle Esme and then the puking. Not to mention all my philosophizing about vampire pregnancy in an earlier A/N. In a lot of ways, I sort of loved Smeyer's description of Bella's feelings toward the fetus. When she describes the "love" between Bella and Edward, it tends to feel formulaic and forced, not backed up by anything substantial. But the feelings Bella has for her unborn child feel incredibly real and grounded; those parts feel like they were written from experience, and it shows. However, there are some _huge_, glaring problems with the way Smeyer handles the pregnancy. I'll get to them as I get to them, but for now I just want to say how silly all the foreshadowing was, with the dreams about eggs or whatever. Am I to believe that the girl who can't tell when she's crying, the girl who _doesn't even notice pain_ (thanks for drawing my attention to that, DracyGiuliana!) is somehow so in tune with her body that she notices she's pregnant long before she has any solid reason for doing so? That's silly. As far as Bella knows, vampires and humans can't breed together. And it's not unusual to experience gastrointestinal upset when you're visiting a foreign country. If Smeyer's Bella had been written to be more self-aware (more than zero, I mean) or if she hadn't made such a point of loudly ruling out the possibility of interbreeding, then maybe it wouldn't have stretched belief so much for Bella to figure it out just because she's dreaming about eggs and has a tummy ache. In the end, it just feels like one more way that Bella is The Speciallest: she doesn't even need a test to tell her she's two minutes pregnant! Pregnant, not pregnant—she's still the same Bella. Merely incubating a fertilized egg does not automatically transform her from clumsy, unobservant dweeb to Intuitive Earth Mother.**


	8. Sanity-Bending Family Trees

I spent the rest of the day at the Cullens' house. Jasper had cleared out, because even though Carlisle had now bandaged my hands properly and the scent of blood was all but contained, there was no point risking it. Emmett had followed him, and Carlisle was still at work, so Edward, Esme, Alice, Rosalie and I sat together in Esme's sitting room, a cozy little chamber attached to the master bedroom. The walls had been hand-painted in bucolic murals. I felt like I was picnicking in the French countryside. Except for the part where I couldn't, apparently, eat anything but my own blood.

Awesome.

"Bella," said Esme warmly, tucking my hair behind my ear just like a real mother would, "I want you to know that whatever happens, this family will stand behind you."

"We would have anyway," said Alice earnestly, "even if you weren't carrying Edward's bastard child. You're one of us now. Right, Rosalie?" Esme and Edward shot her annoyed looks for not striking the proper tone, but she ignored them.

Rosalie had the strangest look on her face. I was beginning to understand that what I had always assumed was coldness and dislike were really just symptoms of something deeper, some innate inability to moderate her facial expressions and play-act at being happy and normal like most people did automatically. Right now, she was looking at me like I was more or less the messiah.

"Of course you're one of us," she said, forcing a smile. "You're Edward's mate. And you're our...our friend." The word _friend_ didn't seem to slip easily from her mouth. I wondered how many times she'd said it before.

"Thank you, Rosalie," I said, touched by her admission.

"Bella, what are you going to do?" asked Alice.

"Let's not pressure her, Alice," chided Esme. I shrugged.

"I don't know," I said. "I mean, I'm only seventeen..."

"And we have no idea how this might affect you, physically," added Edward. "Carlisle says it's far too advanced for a normal pregnancy. We shouldn't be able to hear a heartbeat yet, and already you can feel movement…"

"So the grasshopper likes to dance, what's wrong with that?" I said, trying hard not to think of the grasshopper as being an actual living miniature person that I was currently gestating. That was way too freaky, and if I decided not to keep it, I _really_ didn't want to get attached first.

"That's not the point," said Alice. "Bella, if you can already feel movement before your second month of pregnancy, what do you think is going to happen down the road? That thing must be _strong_. What happens when it's twice the size it is now? Or ten times?"

"Oh, god," I said hollowly. "I didn't even _think_ of that. I don't really know what's supposed to be normal…"

"One thing I think we can all accept is that none of this comes with an instruction pamphlet," said Esme.

"No kidding," muttered Alice. "Bella, have you considered...um, _taking care _of it?"

"Taking care…?" I repeated. "Oh, you mean abortion. Yeah, I've considered it. I'm not done considering it. I don't know. I don't what I'm going to do. Oh my god, if my dad finds out about this..."

"Whatever happens, we need to keep you safe," pressed Alice. "Whatever that may mean for...um, the fetus."

"Al, don't be pushy," snapped Rosalie. No points for guessing what _she _thought I should do. "It's _her_ body."

"Yes," I said. "My body. Right." My body, plus a hyperactive grasshopper which was, technically, half _Edward_. Oh god. "I...I think I should go home," I said, standing. At once, four pairs of hands went out to steady me. "Chill out, guys, I managed to survive this long without a scaffolding," I said. Reluctantly, all hands but Edward's withdrew.

"I'll drive you home," he said. I gave Alice and Esme goodbye hugs. Then, cautiously, Rosalie tucked me into her arms for a brief moment.

"We'll help you, Bella," she whispered in my ear. _Backflip, backflip._

* * *

Edward dropped me off at home and then returned to his house to wait for Carlisle, who was running blood tests with samples he'd collected this afternoon. He'd offered to stay with me, but I needed a little time to think by myself. I let myself into the house and collapsed heavily on the sofa. So far today I'd broken half the dishes in my house and then drunk my own blood like a psychopath, found the friend who had gone missing for ten days after his father was brutally murdered before his eyes—which friend just so happened to be _a werewolf_—and discovered my century-old immortal teenage boyfriend had somehow impregnated me despite the fact that we were _supposed_ to be completely different species. And Charlie wasn't even home yet. I would not be handling the transition to adulthood very well, I could tell already.

I had a few hours before I had to look my father in the eyes and chicken out about telling him I'd gotten knocked up like some dumbass who thinks _just the tip_ doesn't count. I resolved the mess I'd left in the kitchen and then started tidying up the rest of the house, which was already tidy because all I ever did these days was clean. I had to bite back a hysterical giggle as the word _nesting_ floated to the top of my mind—the same mind I was obviously in the middle of losing.

I finished by cleaning my own room, folding and putting away the laundry I'd done the day before, sorting through the crap on my desk. My eyes fell upon a small photo album my mother had sent me for Christmas.

_Happy Holidays, Lovey!_ she'd written on the back of the first picture in the album, which was a shot of her and Phil cuddled up on the beach with matching Santa hats on their heads. I flipped through the rest of the pictures, which went backward through time. In my present state of hormonal tenterhooks, I began noticing things that had never struck me before about these pictures:

Her and me, just before I left Phoenix, smiling in the sunlight. I'd had to figure out how to work the camera's timer, and it had taken us a few tries. You could see my growing frustration with technology while she made goofy kissy-faces at the camera. She hadn't volunteered to help, even though the camera was hers.

A shot of the two of us with our erstwhile dog, Schluppy. My mom had taken it into her head that she wanted a dog, like, _now_, and so we'd gone to the shelter and picked one out. I'd tried to hide my allergies while she oohed and ahhed over the sweet mutt who'd come home with us, and when she finally noticed how red my eyes were, she promised to keep the dog out of my room. But I still ended up having to feed and walk it; on days when I couldn't get home from school in time, like as not there'd been a brand new wet spot on the rug. So the dog had gone back to the shelter, and I'd felt guilty ever since.

After that, a picture of me in a swimming pool, a hint of pinkish-tan in my fifteen-year-old skin, a few freckles dotting my nose. I had a great big smile on my face; you could see my mom's shadow flickering on the turquoise pool water, giant sunhat and all. The shot was pretty off-center, because my mother had gotten distracted just before snapping the picture.

Me at my thirteenth birthday party, surrounded by friends whose names I no longer remembered. It was the only time I'd ever had a real birthday party, because usually my mom didn't get her shit together far enough in advance to send out invitations. It had been fun. My dad had sent me an antique copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ which he'd found at a junk shop in Forks. If I looked closely at the picture, I could see that the book was still in my lap, where it had stayed from the moment I unwrapped it to the moment everyone got up to change into their bathing suits.

Twelve years old, sitting on a horse, looking terrified. I had always hated heights. _"Horses are God's most noble creatures,"_ my mother had said, trying to get me to stay on the thing's back long enough to get a good shot.

Ten, eating ice cream at the Balloon Festival in Albuquerque. I'd hated getting it all down my front as it melted in the radiant sun, but my mom just laughed and told me to embrace life's stickiness.

Nine, playing with makeup at my mother's dresser, trying to make myself look like a grown up, a mother. Seven, buried behind my copy of _Matilda_, annoyed at the intrusion of a photo op. Six, sitting uncomfortably on Santa's lap. Three, pushing around a toy stroller with a teddy bear strapped into it.

Two, just before my parents split up and my mom got full custody. My parents were perched on the couch which still sat in my dad's living room, too stiff to be in love anymore, and I was sprawled between them, waving my huge copy of _Eloise_ in the air. Another one, where I was younger, yanking on my dad's moustache, which was even longer in those days. It looked like it hurt, but he was grinning and trying to keep my wriggly self from flopping out of his arms and onto the floor.

The last photo in the album, taken just a couple of days after my birth. My mom, my dad, and tomato-red little me. You could see a good portion of my mother's arm as she held the camera out to get the shot so we could all be in it. She was smiling, tired but happy, into the lens. I was sleeping. Half of my dad's head was cut out of the frame, but you could see he was looking at me like I was the hugest shock of his life. He looked terrified.

I shut the album. I went over to my bookshelf and pulled _Pride and Prejudice_ from its place of honor amid _Matilda, Mary Poppins _and_ The Blue Castle_. I opened the cover to read the faded inscription inside, in the loopy old-fashioned handwriting of the woman who had bought it first:

_Sarah Beth, may this tome bring you as tender a joy as you have always brought to me. Warmly, Your Great Aunt Agnes._

Underneath that, in my dad's jerky scrawl, _Bells, I couldn't have said it better myself. Love, Dad._

I shut the book carefully and put it back on the shelf, tears welling up in my eyes. I sat on my bed, staring around at the gloomy little room that had always been waiting for me when I came to Forks to fulfill my father's visiting rights. I'd never liked this room until recently, because it was smaller than my bedroom in Phoenix and the view through the one small window was of slightly creepy woods. When I was ten I'd gone to talk to a lawyer who had asked me if I liked my present living arrangement. I'd thought he was talking about houses and bedrooms and cities, and so I said yes. Even if I'd known he was asking which parent I wanted to live with, I still would have said yes, because I was used to my mom, and I loved her, and besides, she came with a pool.

But deep down, I couldn't help wondering if I'd made the right choice. My childhood hadn't been much of a childhood, I now saw. The only time I'd ever gotten to be a kid was when I was with my dad. And I couldn't imagine where he'd learned it, either: his own father had abandoned him and Nona Swan when he was a teenager. Whatever he knew about being a good father, he'd figured out on his own.

Oh god. I was getting teary and nostalgic again, and I couldn't afford to lose my shit right now. Instead of sobbing for absolutely no good reason, I figured I could at least chop onions for burrito toppings and sob over _them_.

Charlie came home while I was refrying the beans. I hastily wiped the last tear-tracks from my cheeks and pasted a look of bored normalcy on my face.

"Bells!" he shouted, before he'd even shut the front door. "Jake's back!" He slammed the door behind him and pounded into the kitchen. "Says he didn't even know we were looking for him, he took off to bunk with his cousin in Seattle this whole time. Can you fuckin'—'scuse me, can you believe that shit?" I smiled a wavery smile and shook my head. "By the way," he said, suddenly stern, "you pull something like that and I'm plantin' a homing device on you. Damn kid had us all worried to death for no reason…"

"I would never do that, Dad," I said, which was technically true—I had at least come up with a plausible cover story when _I_ ran away from home. "I'm so glad he's safe. Come, on, I made all the fillings for burritos. God, he's really back?" Saying it aloud felt _wonderful._

"Yeah, and I can't say I envy the tongue-lashing he's probably gettin' this minute from Sue. Hey, you didn't happen to make guac, did you?" he asked hopefully. "I feel like celebrating."

"No," I said, "sorry. I can fix some up now—"

"Nah," he replied, rising. "I got it. You cooked."

* * *

That night, when Edward tapped on my bedroom window, I threw it wide open. At least with him I didn't have to pretend everything was normal.

We were obviously both thinking about our predicament, but neither of us was ready to bring it up yet. We talked about other things, instead, things which would have received top billing if not for the grasshopper.

"So," I said casually, "when I told you to tell me everything and you left out the part about werewolves…?"

Edward had the grace to look ashamed.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but I did promise them first."

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Promise what? Promise _whom?_"

"Remember I told you my family signed a treaty with the Quileute elders in the Thirties?" he said. I nodded. "Well, the treaty may have been a little more complicated than I made it seem. Seventy years ago, there were three...um, very curious individuals living with the Quileute tribe. They were shape-shifters, and they had been living with the Quileutes for some time, as bodyguards or surrogate family members. We were never very clear on that, but my impression was that they were nomads who had been welcomed by the local population and chosen to stay for a few generations. The Quileutes trusted them, you see, because of some myths they share about human-to-wolf transformations. They helped their friends broker a deal with us, that we would never step foot on Quileute land or reveal their existence. Although we would not have wanted to tell anyone about them anyway; it is a crime for vampires to deal with shape-shifters, other than to kill them. They are our sworn enemies. If the Volturi found out about them, or that we had made a secret deal with them—well, let me just say that our lives would not be worth the dust under your fingernails. And Jake's entire tribe would almost certainly be wiped out. Aro, the head of the Volturi, takes an unimaginably dark view of anyone who associates willingly with shape-shifters."

I shivered, thinking about it. The more I heard about this Volturi bunch, the less I wanted to meet them.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Bella, but I swore I would never breathe a word about them. And without their help, we probably would have taken even longer catching James, lost even more civilians. I couldn't betray their trust the second we didn't need them anymore." He shot me a wary glance. "Are you very mad about this?" he asked nervously.

I shook my head. "Not really. I wish you'd told me, but I do understand. And you should always keep your promises—even when I don't want you to." I knew that if Jake had still been missing right now I would be beyond furious, but having him back safe seemed to have cured the angry tic I'd been developing over the last ten days. _The grasshopper must have been as worried about him as I was_, I thought with a smile. _We both feel better now_.

"Well," I said, "now that the wolf's out of the bag, are you allowed to tell me anything?"

"I guess so," he said, smiling in relief. "I don't know much, though. Only the parts they felt were important to tell us."

"Like what?" I asked, snuggling closer to him, curling my body around his limbs.

"Well, It seems that the gene which expresses itself as, er, wolfishness, is so recessive as to be practically mythological. As far as I know, Jacob Black is the only new shape-shifter to have been born in hundreds of years; I suppose one of the ones who were living with his ancestors must have, er, _assimilated_. Aside from being incredibly rare, this gene only surfaces in the presence of a particular pheromone which vampires emit. To someone with this wolf-gene, we would smell of rotting garbage. And once they scented that, it would be only a matter of time before the gene expressed itself. We had no idea Jacob carried the gene. If James had never gone onto the reservation, Jacob's wolf-gene would never have been activated. He would still be a normal human boy, and all those stories would still be just that—stories."

"Poor Jake," I said, shaking my head. "This must have been so terrifying for him."

"These shape-shifters have a sort of telepathic bond. As soon as Jacob turned, they knew it. They returned to Forks from...wherever it is they went. They are helping him, now."

"You mean...the original three?" I said, aghast. "They're still _alive?_" Nonsense. The strange man who had come for Jacob was young, still in his prime. No way was he over seventy years old.

"The very same," said Edward. "I cannot say I envy what lies before Jacob. The three shape-shifters are ancient. Older than me, certainly. Possibly older than Carlisle. While Jacob's family and friends die of old age, he will still be getting used to his new identity as a part-time wolf." So, perhaps a bit over seventy years old, after all.

Jake would need a friend, now more than ever. I resolved, no matter what happened with the grasshopper, that I would be that friend. But seriously. First a hybrid pregnancy that went against all known laws of science and then a best friend who would now be part-timing as an immortal wolf.

Who the hell needed drugs, anyway?

* * *

**Smeyer's Original Werewolf Backstory has some very, very serious problems. In fact it is nothing but problems, all the way through.**

**1. I get that**** she was writing about supernatural shape-shifting, which is imaginary, so she had to make up some stuff to fit her story into the real world. That's call fantasy writing, and I don't usually see a huge problem with it. But Smeyer did it wrong, wrong, wrong. ****The Quileutes are actual, real people, with an actual tribal history that Smeyer totally and completely ignored, because hey, when an indigenous population has already been disenfranchised to the point of near extinction, who'll notice a little more? The only point of intersection between Smeyer's "Quileutes" and _real_ Quileutes is some mythology about humans descending from wolves, which she _very incompletely _appropriated for her story. There is nothing in Quileute mythology about modern-day wolf shape-shifters, or "Cold Ones", or Taha Aki, or imprinting. Yes, yes, I know: it's fiction. However, when a privileged white woman invents a lot of fake history about a group of people who ****have already ****been shat on by centuries of her ancestors, then has her invention prominently published and never makes any attempt to fact-check with actual Quileutes, nor reaches out to them for consultation and permission, ****nor thanks them for lending their name to her wholecloth Frankenmyth, ****you have what we in the biz like to call "a lot of fucking bullshit".**

**2. My first thought, when I realized I was going to have to write about the shape-shifters after all but that I wasn't willing to follow Smeyer's footsteps, was that I should just retroactively make up a new, imaginary name for J****ake's tribe. At least then I wouldn't be peeing on a real tribe's history or belief system. But that came with its own set of problems, because the very biggest red flag in Smeyer's tribal crap would still be present. To quote the all-around fantastic Alaislana's assessment, "Native Americans as the Noble Savages In Touch With Nature is such a common and offensive trope." Or, as we call it in the biz, "a lot of fucking racist bullshit". **

**3. Clearly, I needed to come up with a wolf shape-shifting concept unrelated to any concept of Noble Savages, but it still needed to have a genetic component because in my infinite lack of foresight I'd already written that part into _Long Long Long._ Enter the nomadic, immortal shape-shifters. They happened to be crashing with their buds the Quileutes when the Cullens breezed through the first time. They were the ones who negotiated the deal with the Cullens. Through them, the shape-shifting gene was introduced into Jake's family tree. The Quileutes in this tale are not hot-blooded rustics too uncouth to go into Polite Society without exploding out of their shorts in ****irrational ****fits of rage; nor are they dirty savages (but with Hearts of Gold!) sworn to protect Mother Earth and her children from those white, educated, hygienic, well-mannered, well-spoken, well-read _interlopers_. In my story, they get to be what they are in real life, which is a tribe of people with their own shit going on, and the werewolves get to keep being an integral part of the _Twilight_ saga.**

**4. Speaking of, I have nixed any mention of Children of the Moon. It makes no sense to me that Aro would know the shape-shifters' mission statement to be "Kill All Vampires", but let them off of the technicality that they aren't _true_ werewolves, so his hands are tied, sorry dear, and we really must be toddling on back to Volterra or we shall be late for our tea. True werewolves or no, the shape-shifters are still explicit and unalterable enemies of vampires, full stop. They are still allies of the Cullens, and present a golden opportunity for Aro to get a toe in the door when his first scheme has gone pear-shaped. The way it played out in the book, I got the feeling that Smeyer had written herself into a corner and her deadline was coming due, so she introduced a technicality that would never fly if any of her characters were in the habit of behaving consistently. In my story, Volturi law prohibits alliance or fraternization with shape-shifters, which are a small but racially diverse group of nomads whose family tree covers the globe and whose wolfy-gene-of-note pops up at unpredictable times and in unpredictable places. I know, I know, it's not quite Smeyer's wolf packs. I do hope you'll still be entertained.**


	9. Choice

The next day, after emptying what little remained in my stomach into the toilet bowl, and resisting the urge to lick my palms, I curled back up on the bed with Edward and called Jake's house. There was no answer, which didn't surprise me. After what my dad had said the night before, I had to assume Harry and Sue Clearwater would take him in, they being his next of kin. Besides, I imagined just about everyone must want a piece of him. He wouldn't have time for me for a while.

Around noon Alice came over to drop off some clothing she'd finished making for me—an embroidered, floor-length, goddess-style silk nightgown, three soft merino sweaters which she'd designed and Esme had knitted, and a sweet little pencil skirt which hung a little loose on me now that I'd dropped those five pounds. She also casually wondered whether I'd decided what I was going to do yet, which ticked Edward off mightily.

"If you're going to be this invasive," he said angrily, "you might as well just leave. Bella and I are still working on it—"

"I was just _wondering_, Edward," said his sister. "Sheesh." But she looked at me with evident worry the rest of the afternoon, which did nothing for my stress levels. The grasshopper pretty much kept up a constant highland jig the entire time Alice was there.

But she was right about one thing: Edward and I couldn't put it off anymore.

"We have no idea what this thing might do to your body," he said that night, holding me tight. "If it grows so fast that you're already feeling it move around after less than a month, it might grow too fast for you to carry to term. You might decide to keep it and find that you _can't_. Then we'll just lose you both. And…"

"And what?" I asked.

"The minute I lose you, I lose everything," he said somberly. "I won't survive that. I just won't."

"Edward, what are you saying?" I asked, playing with his hair to calm him, needing to be calmed myself.

"I don't mean to be melodramatic," he said, relaxing under my touch, "but without you I have nothing, Bella. It was hard enough facing eternity before I'd met you; an eternity knowing you're gone forever is not something I can handle, and I won't."

"Well," I said pointedly, "you know what you have to do, don't you?" I traced my fingers across his lips, which he kept firmly pressed shut.

"I'm not going to turn you while you're pregnant," he said. "Then you'll be pregnant forever."

And we were back to the real problem.

"Okay," I said, trying to be rational. Rational was how I'd met every milestone in my life, probably as a result of Renee's unreliable mothering. The choice to move to Forks, the choice to become intimate with Edward, my goal of eventually becoming like him...if I could just fight back the terror and uncertainty, then I could make this choice as rationally as I had made the others. Of course, this meant I had to pretty much turn off my emotions, which was a difficult proposition with a grasshopper bouncing around my insides all the time, demanding that I pay attention to it. And my weird moods over the past two weeks were probably, I now saw, what those parenting books liked to call an "emotional roller coaster". Turning off my emotions and thinking about this logically would be akin to plugging the Hoover Dam with my finger. But I still had to try.

"Okay," I said, "can you do something for me? Let's take turns being on both sides, okay? I want to know all the pros and cons before I make a decision. Do you think you can try to find some pros?"

"I can try," he sighed. "Cons are easier, though."

"All right," I said. "So, what are they, from your point of view?"

"It might destroy your body and end your life," he said.

"It might not," I said, "but even if it does, I think we would see it coming. Carlisle would check on me as often as he needed to, and if it turns out my body can't handle it, we can...we can deal with it then."

"You say that now," said Edward, "but are you sure you would be strong enough to spend who knows how long carrying this thing, only to decide down the road to end it? It's a hard enough decision _now._"

"Probably not," I admitted. "I don't think I could do that after I got to know it." Unconsciously I rubbed my hand along my lower abdomen, and felt a little twitch through my belly. The grasshopper must have known I was thinking about it. "Then again, if this thing is growing as fast as everyone says, I just have to get it to viability. So what if it tears up my body a little? Even if it damages me some, there's nothing venom won't heal."

"Great," muttered Edward, "this again. Bella—"

"Edward," I said impatiently, "you know what? You need to drop this whole 'I can't let you do this' bit. My decision to become a vampire is not up to you, okay? I would really prefer it if you were the one to change me, but it doesn't have to be you. Carlisle could do it. And if venom offered me a way to carry the baby to term without permanently wrecking my body—well, that looks like a win-win to me."

"Okay," said Edward, breathing heavily, "well, setting aside for a moment the part where it might kill you horribly, we also don't know what the thing _is_."

"Don't be daft, it's a fetus," I huffed.

"Yes, but a fetus of _what?_ Half-vampire, half-human? Where does _that_ end? Does it come out chewing on its own arm? Will it be mortal like you or immortal like me? What if it's something we can't control? What if it stays a baby, like an immortal child?"

"A what now?" I asked.

"Immortal children," said Edward, "are the most dangerous thing a vampire can ever create. The biting of a human infant or toddler is forbidden by the Volturi; creating an immortal child carries the most brutal penalties. You know of the three Denali sisters?" I nodded. "Well, what I didn't tell you is that they had a mother once, Sasha. She bit a human baby. She kept him secret from his sisters, to protect them. When the Volturi found out, their punishment was swift and absolute. Only their ignorance of the child kept Irina, Kate and Tanya from the pyre on which they saw their mother and their baby brother burned. Wars were fought over the immortal children. Rosalie's yearning for a child isn't exactly unique among vampire women; but she knows that to create an immortal child would bring certain death for her and it. Their bloodlust is as powerful as a newborn vampire's, and unlike those who are turned later in life, it _never fades_. They can't be controlled; an immortal child could destroy a whole town in a matter of days, and short of holding it hostage for eternity there would be no way for its sire to stop it. They are a threat to our laws of secrecy. Furthermore, to curse a child in such a way, that it should remain forever too immature to comprehend or control its own feelings—it's beyond cruel. The Volturi don't allow them to live, or their creators, or anyone who conceals their existence. We are already flirting with our own doom, keeping this secret alliance with the wolves. To add yet another thing to the list of our crimes—it's madness."

"Oh," I said, chilled at the thought of the Volturi taking an interest in what I wanted to go on believing was a private decision. "That's...that's fair. But what's the likelihood of that happening, really? The problem with vampire babies is they never grow up, right? Well, this thing is definitely growing. It obviously went from blastocyst to embryo to fetus; why wouldn't it keep on going past that?"

"Is that really a risk you want to take?"

"I don't know," I said, still resolutely plugging that dam with my pinky. "Just...keep going. Any other cons?"

"Aren't those enough?"

"Just go with me on this," I begged. "Okay, now I'll say the cons and you say the pros."

"Sure," said Edward. "All those pros I've been sitting on…"

"Edward," I said, tears pricking behind my eyeballs, "I know this is hard for you, but can you just try to remember that it's harder for me? Please? I need you to be supportive right now. _Please_, Edward."

"Fine," said Edward, at least attempting to contain his frustration. "Um...if you do go through with your _incredibly stupid_ plan of getting someone to bite you before you get too much older, that'll mean you never get another chance at motherhood after this. Unless…"

"Unless what?" I said.

"Well, you could always have a kid from, I don't know, a donor, maybe…"

"Edward, don't be dumb. If I have a kid I want it to be yours, okay? It's either the grasshopper or nothing. We're not keeping alternative procreation methods on the table."

"Okay," he said. "Fine. Then here's my pro: if the only child you're ever willing to have is mine, then it might as well be this one, because it's here already. Except you know, if we put this off, we could try again, after we've had a chance to study the matter further."

"I don't know," I said, "I'm not sure I could give this one up and just replace it with another one a year down the road. That feels awfully..._cold_. I would always be thinking about the grasshopper, you know? If try number two worked out, try number one would just be hanging around my neck like a millstone. It's not like Esme ever got over losing her first. I don't want an eternity of feeling like I whiffed it because I was chicken."

"It's not cowardice, Bella," he said. "It's just common sense. It's _caution._"

"Can you just stick with pros for now, please? If you can't cooperate—"

"I know, I know," he sighed. "Okay, here's another one: you're already in love with the thing."

"I am not," I said, too quickly. "Says who? I'm being very careful not to get attached."

"Sure," said Edward. "So why do you shield your womb with your hand every time someone suggests you go through with the procedure?"

I looked down. Sure enough, my hand was protectively covering my belly. Guiltily, I whipped it away.

"That's just hormones," I said with dignity.

"You don't have to pretend it's hormones," he said softly, tucking his finger under my chin and kissing my nose. "Here's another pro for you. You'd make an amazing mom. If everyone survived this—and that's a very significant 'if'—you would be the mother to one incredibly lucky child. A small part of me, the part that isn't petrified at the thought of losing you, wants to meet your child."

"_Our_ child," I corrected him.

"Our child," he agreed. "Okay, now it's your turn. Cons?"

I thought. Most of the downsides, Edward had already named. Other things that seemed like major negatives collapsed in the face of the reality of our situation. I knew that the most common reason for a woman to seek an abortion was one I didn't have to worry about: I wouldn't have to struggle to bear the financial and social burden of having a baby, and I would have a support network that significantly eased my fears of being a failure at parenting. The Cullens wouldn't abandon me, and I knew Charlie wouldn't either. Telling Charlie would suck, but then again, if I became a vampire like I was planning, everything about my relationship with him was going to change. Most of my cons had to do with things that could be solved by becoming a vampire. But there was one thing that no amount of venom could make right.

"I don't know if I could be a good mother," I admitted quietly. "What if I just turn into my mom? What if I turn out to be self-absorbed and immature and—"

"Hey," said Edward gently, "I can set your mind at rest about that one. You've never been selfish. Or immature. Not as long as I've known you."

"Yeah, maybe," I said, not completely believing him. "Listen, I think I need to sleep on this, okay?"

"Okay," agreed Edward, settling down behind me on the bed. Except for the grasshopper in my uterus, the carnage James had left behind, and the nightmare creatures come to life on the rez, my life was totally under control.

* * *

I'd always had a vivid dream life, but the images that came to me in my sleep that night felt more like sleeping hallucinations. In the first one, I was walking through the town of Forks, and everything I passed was covered in blood, which smelled better than chocolate to me. Then I found myself walking through the Cullen mansion, where the blood had been replaced by glistening, slippery venom. I walked out of their house and into the forest, and suddenly I was on the rez, wading through piles of bodies. Human bodies and wolves formed mountains for me to climb, hand over hand, and all the while a grasshopper danced a tango in my midsection.

At the top of the mountain of bodies was a toddler. A boy, with reddish-brown hair flopping over his angelic, plump-cheeked face. He smiled at me, his scarlet eyes aglow with feral pleasure. He reached out his arms and I picked him up. I knew what was coming next, but in my dream I was powerless to stop it.

He leaned forward to give me a wet kiss on my cheek. Then he sank his little teeth into my neck, and as I slipped from consciousness in the dreamworld, I woke in the real one.

Edward heard my gasp of horror, and began soothing me at once, asking me what was wrong. I pushed out of his grasp.

"I need to go to the bathroom," I said breathlessly. I felt my way down the hall and locked the door behind me, more as a symbolic gesture of isolation than an actual preventative measure. I stood in front of the mirror and stared at my reflection. I looked haggard, my hair a tangled mess, my eyes bloodshot and rimmed with red. My skin looked sallow and anemic. I'd been chewing on my lips in my sleep, hard enough to draw blood.

There was only one thing I could think about.

The dream-baby had looked exactly like Edward. How was I supposed to give up anything so beautiful? Edward had been right, even if I hadn't realized it at the time: I was already in love with the grasshopper. I wanted him, badly. I wanted to keep him safe long enough to be born. How else would I ever get to meet him face to face? Nothing would stand in my way, not now. Not even my very reasonable worries that this child would spell destruction for me and everyone I loved. It didn't matter to me. I was sure that I could keep him safe, keep all of us safe, if I just tried hard enough. There had to be a way to have my son without a pile of bodies. I would _find_ a way.

I drank a glass of water from the tap. I brushed my hair and used the toilet. Then I went back to my bedroom.

"Edward," I whispered hoarsely. His golden eyes were reflecting what little light came through the window. He looked at me steadily in the dark.

"You're going to go through with it, aren't you?" he said miserably. "Even though it might kill you."

"I can't just end it," I said, thinking of the joy on the little boy's face as he asked to be picked up. "I don't know the first thing about babies. I have absolutely no faith in my ability to raise a child, no matter what you might say. But it doesn't matter. I want him to live."

"Bella, think about this a little longer, at least—"

"My choice is made," I said. "You can waste your breath trying to talk me out of it, or you can help make this happen. I don't want to wait a year and try again. I don't want to go through eternity with you, remembering that I almost had him and didn't. I want this one. I want _him_."

"'_Him_'," said Edward bitterly. "You can't know he'll be what you want."

"He'll be whatever he'll be," I said simply. "I want him anyway."

* * *

**Ground rules: Whatever your personal feelings regarding abortion, express them civilly. Unless you have actually studied Mormonism, please don't draw connections between Smeyer's religion and this debate; they aren't as obvious as you think. Other than that, I am dying to know what your thoughts are about this chapter! If I make some bold claim about the books that is contradicted by, you know, the actual books, let me know. I haven't read them in a while and am sort of going on memory.**

**Most of the time, Smeyer's concept of "love" falls flat. But when Smeyer describes Bella's attachment to her unborn child, it feels real. When she calls the baby "my little nudger", it's so sweet I almost can't believe Smeyer wrote it: this is the moment a mother falls in love with her baby, and it is so clear that for once Smeyer is writing from the heart. ****But that is where Smeyer's success ends. Here are some problems with the pregnancy and Bella's choice, as presented in the books:**

**1. Because he is not opposed to abortion in this one case where the mother's life is endangered, it is tempting to conclude that Edward is pro-choice, since "at the very least, abortions should be safe and legal when the pregnancy risks the mother's life" is a fairly widespread aspect of pro-choiceness. So when Edward is transformed into a snarling villain who wants to rip the living embryo from his wife's body with both hands, he becomes an incredibly tedious pro-choice straw man. _See how sadistic we are?_ Edward's character seems to scream. _We're all hateful murderers just waiting to kidnap your unborn children!_ Here's the problem with that: _E_**_**dward isn't actually**_**_ pro-choice_. He believes that the outcome of the pregnancy should be up to him, not Bella. This makes him anti-choice. This is a distinction that I do not trust Smeyer to fully understand. It is a distinction that is easy to miss, because the debate is so often reframed as pro-abortion versus anti-abortion. Sadly, this is the way that Smeyer seems to be viewing the issue. Sadlier still, even the pro-choice people I talk to about these books waste their time deploring Bella's decision as being anti-choice instead of criticising _Edward_ for being anti-choice. Plenty of very smart pro-choice people I know actually take Edward's side. I am well aware that these stories don't take place in a vacuum, and there's a lot of propaganda in there, but that doesn't make Edward right and Bella wrong. That just makes Smeyer a crappy writer. Speaking of which...**

**2. Bella actually _is_ pro-choice, as far as I can tell, and I expect that if anyone ever pointed that out to Smeyer blood would start shooting out of her eyes. Bella never uses the argument that she shouldn't have an abortion because _no one _should, and if she were actually opposed to abortion in all cases you would expect that to come up, since everyone keeps pressuring her about it. She _always_ knows that abortion is an option; she knows that it would be safer than the alternative, that it would be at the hands of a highly competent doctor, and that she would be unlikely to suffer serious social ostracization for seeking an abortion. She chooses instead to make every possible effort to carry the baby to term, because at the end of it all, _she wants to have that specific baby_. That is an ideal pro-choice situation: safe access, support, the ability to choose free of fear. Yet somehow Bella often gets lumped in with the pro-life movement, because she is choosing not to abort a risky pregnancy. And somehow Edward gets lumped in with the pro-choice movement, because he is trying to force his wife to get an abortion. That's quite the hat trick. Smeyer's hoodwinked us all.**

**3. Bella intuits immediately that Edward will try to force her to have an abortion; this is why she calls Rosalie on the down-low. She knows that she is in physical danger if she lets on that she wants to keep the baby. She knows that he may try to end the pregnancy by force and against her will. Instead of motherfucking divorcing his ass, she just accepts that it's her responsibility to not have her body attacked by her husband, instead of the other way around. This is the man you've married, Bella. _Why are you okay with this?_**

**4. Bella is used here as a straw proxy for women who exhibit unfeminine qualities, like ****having a sex drive that cannot be tidily contained by social mores, or ****not wanting marriage and babies. She _thought_ she didn't want to get married, but Edward cured her by a neat combination of coercion and bribery. She _thought_ she didn't want children, but Smeyer knows better, _all _women want babies, they _really, really do_. Even the ones who don't! Uuuuggggggggggggghhh.**

**I'm trying to handle this issue carefully, and I'm trying to keep everyone in character. Because my Bella is logic-based and not moron-based, she is considering the full impact of this pregnancy from as many angles as she can, even if she ultimately chooses to keep the baby for emotional reasons (which is fine, by the way). Because my Edward is not a homicidal psychopath, he is not a hair away from knocking Bella out with drugs and then operating on her unconscious body. Okay, guys: what do you think? Did I miss something obvious? How do you interpret the situation?**


	10. Looking Ahead

Edward drove me to school the following morning but had to make himself scarce before we entered the building because someone nearby was bleeding a little too much. I threaded my way toward the front doors, relieved that for once my clumsiness wasn't the source of Edward's pain. I felt like I had a huge neon sign pasted to my forehead: _Extra! Extra! High School Senior Bella Swan Knocked Up!_ I was sure people would know just by looking at me—never mind that I hadn't guessed it even with a tiny person swimming very feelable laps around my uterus.

But I also felt a curious inner peace, knowing what I had decided. There was no way this would end with sunshine and rainbows, but if all went very _very_ well, it might end with a little boy who was half me and half Edward and all the way alive, doing whatever mysterious things little boys did. Walking slowly through the parking lot to the front doors I was so engrossed in my thoughts, which were equal parts fantasy and fear, that I didn't notice the stranger until she was right in my path.

"Bella?" said a timid voice in front of me. I jumped and looked up to see a girl I didn't recognize. She appeared to be a bit younger than me, smaller, frailer somehow. There was a cagey, hunted look in her eyes, a shivery caution that wafted perceptibly around her. Her hand was clenched around a white Kleenex with a spot of rust just visible. "Bella Swan?" she said again, louder.

I nodded slowly. She smiled in relief. "Do I, um...know you?" I asked.

"No," she said. "My name's Bree. My friend asked me to give you this." She handed me a sealed envelope, which I accepted cautiously.

"Does your friend have a name?" I said.

"Everyone has a name," said Bree. "Go ahead and read it."

I ripped open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of college-ruled paper bearing a short note written in pencil. The penmanship was scraggly and awkward, as if the hand that held the pen were unused to forming letters; the page was littered with misspellings that my eyes picked out before my brain had processed the words. But the script itself was old-fashioned, the letters curved and curling around each other. My eyes skipped to the end and saw the one word that was written with confidence, a signature that must have been practiced often enough over the years to adopt a natural flourish:

The letter was from Victoria.

I looked up at Bree, expecting her to have suddenly transformed into a blood-eyed vampire woman with ginger hair. I suddenly saw glimpses of red out of the corners of my eyes and became paranoid that I was surrounded by a hundred Victorias, all waiting to pounce.

"Did you read it?" asked Bree tentatively, prodding.

"How did you happen to meet...um, the writer of the letter?" I asked slowly.

"I was in a shelter," she said with a grimace. "She came and offered to give me a place to live and she pays me to be her personal assistant. It was really nice of her to trust me like that. Most people wouldn't, because I don't have any job experience. Most people don't trust me anyway." She fumbled at the end of her sentence and looked down at her hands, already nervous that she'd spoken too freely, given too much away.

Of course. Bree must have run away from home. Or been orphaned, or removed from a bad home by social workers and then forgotten, or something else that would lead to her falling through the cracks in a big city like Seattle. It explained why she had that cagey look about her, and why she'd been desperate enough to work under the table for someone she didn't know. She couldn't have been homeless long, though, or she wouldn't have been so trusting herself. I guessed runaway.

There were actually two objects in the envelope: the letter from Victoria, and what appeared to be a paper napkin wrapped and taped into its own little envelope around something flat and square. I ignored this for now and started reading Victoria's message.

_Miss Swann_, it read_._

_First, pleas do not be afrade of me. I do not wish to harm you. I am James wife, or was, before his murder. I know that non of this was your falt; one canot help ones blood I know, and I was once the very same as you, without so much as a singel frend to look to for ade. So I do not blame you._

_But you oght to know that I was very very close to perswading James to give up the chace when your wachdog tor my loves head from his shulders and extingwished his life, and with it, all my reason for living. We wuld have been gon soon. Now James is gon forever._

_I do not blame you tho. I blame the wolf._

_I know that the wolf was a frend of yours. You will not like what I ask of you now, but you shuld cunsider carfully before rejecting my offer._

_Give me the wolf as paymint for my husband. Give me the boy and save the lives of many. Give me the boy and let justis be served. Give me the boy and I will kill him and then mysef, and you will never have anythin to fear from me agen._

_If you do not do this...well, you will see wat hapins if you do not. I have inclosed a little sumthing to express my ernestness, wich you may look at in your own lesure time. I think you are a kind-harted girl, and I think in the end you will do the rite thing. _

_Think about it. I will be in tuch._

_Victoria_

_PS Is Bree not sweet? It is a teribel shame but there are so many like her in Seattle. I wish I could help them all to a better life. Dont you?_

I slowly lowered the letter and looked at Bree, my heart hammering.

"Are you finished with it?" she said, her eyebrows quirking upward in the middle. I nodded. "I'm supposed to tell you a message." She closed her eyes for a moment, focusing, perhaps, on the wording of what she had to say. "She said to tell you, 'Bring it alone to where the most recent one happened'."

"That's all?" I asked, perplexed.

"That's all," confirmed Bree. "Say it back to me."

"'Bring it to where the most recent one happened'," I quoted.

"No, it's 'bring it _alone_ to where the most recent one happened'," she corrected, smiling to show she didn't mind helping me learn my line. "Try it again?"

I complied. "What does that even mean?"

"You don't know?" said Bree, looking disappointed verging on apprehensive. "I thought for sure you'd know. I guess you better just remember it in case it makes sense later. She said to make sure you memorized it."

"'She'?" I repeated, just to confirm to my own sense of morbid anxiety that this was all happening, actually and really.

"Vicki," answered Bree with a little crinkle of pleasure at each outer corner of her eyes. I wanted to ask her a thousand questions. I wanted to ask her how much she knew. Not much, I was sure. Not her own danger, probably.

But I was paralyzed by the sound of the nickname falling from Bree's lips, so short and informal, far too mundane for so terrifying an owner. _Victoria. James's wife. Vicki_. Before I could squeeze out another word, Bree had darted away, slipped into a beater I didn't recognize, and driven off the property.

Slowly, unwillingly, I removed the secondary packet from the envelope and untaped it. There were a few words written in ballpoint on the napkin, in a different hand from Victoria's.

_621 tompson st basement rick help_, it read, which made no sense until I looked at the two items the napkin had been wrapped around.

The first: a Polaroid of a young black woman, smiling in a distant, candid sort of way. Labeled at the bottom as _Tamara Jones_

The second: a Polaroid of the same girl, one half of her face gently spattered with red, the other half torn away.

* * *

I stumbled through my classes like a zombie. Edward asked me repeatedly what was wrong, first at lunch and then in the English Lit class we shared. But I told him I was just thinking; he must have chalked the scent of vomit that hung around me to morning sickness, and I didn't mention that for once it had nothing to do with that. My stomach had voided itself in reaction to the pictures, once I got over the light-headedness. Not crying was taking up a good deal of my energy. My instinct was to tell Edward everything, show him the letter, be comforted as much as possible as soon as possible. But there was a smaller instinct hidden underneath the first, telling me to wait, not to tell him yet, not to risk rousing him to action before I knew more about what was going on. Possibly there was an element of self-punishment in there, too: I didn't feel that I deserved to be comforted, not even in the minute way signified by sharing the burden with someone else. Which was insane and ridiculous, but there you had it. I read and re-read the letter every chance I got, but it never yielded up any new information, never revealed any further insight.

I stuffed the photographs and napkin back into the envelope and didn't look at them again.

Edward drove me straight to the Cullens' house after school, so I could tell the family my decision and get another check up.

The Cullens fell along predictable party lines when Edward and I told them I had decided to try to carry the baby to term. Rosalie hugged me carefully and took my hand and promised that she would start living in her lab in an effort to turn up something that would help keep us both safe. Esme stroked my hair and told me not to be afraid, that she would be there for me. Carlisle immediately began scheduling tests he wanted to run on me to find out more about the state of things. Emmett enthusiastically predicted that this would be "the kickassest kid ever born". Jasper obviously started using his power on Alice, because Alice became first sanguine and then testy, and finally pushed him away from her.

"Knock it off, Jas," she said irritably. And that was all she would say for the rest of the morning.

But later, when Edward and I were sitting together in his room after dinner—him trying to discover whether my distracted and deeply disturbed manner was a sign of reconsidering about the baby, me trying to find a way to bring up the letter without vomiting again—she knocked on the door and walked in without waiting for an answer. "I think you're making a mistake, Bella," she said without preamble.

"Alice—" began Edward warningly, but I interrupted.

"I know that," I said as calmly as I could, but my voice was still shaking. "I know this isn't the choice you would make, Alice. Up until now, I never even thought about having kids, at least not this young. But I won't be human much longer anyway, and he's here now, and it looks like this is pretty much it. I've made up my mind. Your family has never been very...orthodox. This will be just one more strange thing that happens before I join you properly."

"Bell," she said, crouching in front of me as I sat on the bed, gazing up into my eyes with golden ones which brimmed with emotion. "We _just got you_. You're my sister now. We can't—_I_ can't lose you this soon. Please, _please_—"

"You're my sister, too," I said. "And I hope—I _believe_—that we will go on being sisters for a long, long time. But I'm going to need help. There are things you can do that no one else can. You could really make a difference, Alice."

"You _know_ I can't see your future, Bella," she said. "I don't see what I could possibly do."

"Maybe you can't see _her _future," said Edward, "but that didn't stop you helping when James was here. You couldn't see the wolves, either. What did you do then?"

"I, um...I just looked around the edges of things," she said uncertainly. "I kept an eye on anyone who might know Bella was in Brazil, so if anyone got talky I could...I could…"

She stopped abruptly, a faraway look on her face. Edward shifted beside me. I wondered what they were both looking at.

"What is it?" I asked. "Guys?"

"I think I may know how to help you," said Alice briskly, all pleading gone from her voice. "But I have to go. Now. Jasper, sweetie, pack the bags, we're going to Brazil." She didn't say this last part loudly and Jasper certainly wasn't in the room, but he must have been in earshot, because I heard swift feet running lightly past Edward's room in the direction of the suite Jasper and Alice shared.

"Wait, what?" I said. "Why?"

"Jasper has some friends who might be able to help us," she said. She kissed me on the cheek and hugged Edward, and was gone.

"Um…" I said.

"I'll explain tonight," said Edward, standing up. "Bella, I have to go look a few things up. Do you mind if my mom drives you home?"

"Of course not," I said. "I'll go dig her out of the kitchen."

Edward smiled and kissed me. "No need," he said. "She heard. Come on, I'll walk you down to the car."

* * *

"How are you feeling, Bella?" said Esme as she pulled out onto the winding forest road that led from the Cullen place back to town. I settled into the sheepskin that had been thoughtfully placed in the passenger seat for me. There was a full shopping bag at my feet, but since this was a Lexus I had plenty of room.

"I'm okay," I said automatically. Then, without ever having planned to say a word about it, I blurted, "Actually I'm awful. A girl I don't know gave me this letter today. I don't know what to do about it. I can't stop thinking about it." I pulled out the letter—now much-creased from all the handling throughout the day—and handed it to Esme, who accepted it without taking her eyes off the road.

She read it at a glance. Her breathing remained steady and our speed did not slacken, but I felt a shift in the air. I could practically hear her thinking.

"She also had Bree tell me to bring him alone to the place where the most recent one happened. Which I can only assume meant...this." I held out the napkin and the two photos. Esme's eyes flickered over them briefly, then over me for a second, and I thought I saw anger there. But it passed before I could be sure—or, more likely, the anger remained, but became invisible. I had a sudden thought that Esme angry was a lot scarier than, say, Edward angry, or even Jake in wolf mode. And she wasn't even frowning.

"I think I understand," said Esme. "Bella, I do not believe I would be out of line in declaring this to be an utterly shitty situation Victoria has placed you in. Utterly shitty."

Coming from her, the curse packed a lot of punch, enough that I felt the tears I'd been suppressing all day welter up.

"What do I do?" I said, my voice wavering.

"About this? What _can_ you do?" This was rhetorical. "You cannot betray Jacob to this woman. That would be wrong on a great many levels, not least of which is that I think Jacob has already outgrown the stage where he can be easily led into traps. No, Bella, I think you had better try your utmost to put this out of your mind while I look into it."

"I don't think I can," I said in a small voice. Esme looked over at me again, thoughtfully.

"Perhaps if you redirect your focus to the more immediate matter, it will serve as a suitable diversion. Babies tend to do that, as I recall." She indicated the shopping bag at my feet, which was stuffed with pregnancy books. I picked one up and read the cover: _What to Expect When You're Expecting_, it read. Underneath, handwritten in Sharpie to match the title font, (_A Vampire-Human Hybrid)_. I smiled feebly through my tears.

"I've notated the margins wherever possible. Carlisle told me everything he knew or could guess, and I'm sure much of it is universal anyway, even if it's speeded up in your case. Of course, I won't dally with your intelligence by advising that you hide these from your worthy father. But I do think it will help." She looked at me sympathetically for a few seconds. "There's nothing you can do about dear Vicki at the moment, but there are some things _I_ can do. I'll do them and you just worry about the baby for now."

Well, I certainly had more than enough worrying to keep me busy without also trying to solve this new shitfest all by my lonesome. "Thanks, Esme," I said sincerely. She smiled at me, and we spent the balance of the drive talking about the sprog.

* * *

Edward didn't come tapping til well past midnight, by which point I'd dozed off on top of my covers. I stumbled over to the window to let him in and snuggled back into bed with him—under the blankets, this time.

"So," I said when we'd both gotten settled. "What was up with Alice? Why'd she need to go to Brazil? Is she going to Isle Esme?"

"No," he said. "This is something separate. It's a bit of a long story."

"I'm plenty awake," I assured him. "I want to know."

"Well, I don't know how much you've heard of Jasper's personal history, but at one point he ran away from his sire and traveled into the Amazon basin alone. There he happened to run across a small coven of females, who took him in and allowed him to live with them for a while. As rare as it is for human-drinkers to form family bonds, Zafrina and her two sisters are truly a family. Jasper stayed with them for some time in their home in Brazil. And there he began to hear...stories."

"Stories?" I echoed.

"Zafrina, Senna and Kachiri didn't live among humans as we do, but neither were they nomads. They had little to do all day but run around the jungle discussing interesting tales they heard from humans who lived in the villages they preyed on. They told Jasper of cannibal gods and sun gods who were honored with human sacrifice. They told him of a Mayan demon, Paqok, who travelled by night and preyed on women, sometimes stealing their life all at once, sometimes over several months. They told him of the Supay, an Incan god who cursed women with impossibly difficult pregnancies, waited for them to die in childbirth, and then stole their infants from their still-warm bodies. Supay was a fearsome god, and the only way to divert his attention was to shed infant's blood in his presence."

"That's horrible," I said, shivering. Ordinarily I would take a more anthropological view of this story, but it felt chillingly relevant right now. "I still don't see what you're getting at, though."

"Jasper assumed they were silly human superstitions. Zafrina always seemed to think there was some truth in the stories, but she never explained _why_. But Bella, don't you see what this might mean?"

"Not particularly," I said. "What does _any_ of this have to do with...our situation?"

"What if they weren't just tales? Think about it: stories of gods who attack women in darkness, curse them with difficult pregnancies, wait for them to give birth and then steal the resultant offspring? Gods who can only be appeased by a spilling of human blood, and who accept human sacrifices?"

My eyes widened as the ramifications of this struck me. "You mean…" I said quietly, "the gods are just...just vampires?"

Edward nodded vigorously. "Possibly," he said. "There might have been whole covens of vampires who fathered half-vampire children, or it might have been just one working alone over the centuries. Or they could be just stories. There's only one way to find out. That's what Alice is doing now."

"Did she have to go all the way to Brazil?" I asked a little wistfully. As stressful as it was having Alice so clearly set against my decision, I would miss my friend. I hoped she came back soon—preferably with answers.

"I'm afraid so," said Edward. "The three sisters don't have a phone. Jasper isn't even sure they still live in the same place. Alice is the only one in the whole family who has a power that's even remotely useful in long-distance tracking, and she had to go with him."

"Of course," I said, inclining my head. "I didn't mean to whine."

"You're not being whiny," said Edward gently, tucking my crown under his chin, and holding me tight. "And even if you were, you have a good excuse. I miss her, too."

"Excuses I've got in spades," I muttered. At Edward's questioning look, I went on to explain about meeting Bree at school. "You have to swear you won't do anything or say a word to _anyone_ about this," I said. "But she had a letter. From Victoria."

Edward stiffened into a marble statue beside me. His immobility was alarmingly complete. "What did she say?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"To give her Jake or she'll murder a bunch of homeless people in Seattle, essentially," I said.

"Have you told anyone else about this?" said Edward tensely.

"Just your mom," I said. "I left the letter and the, um, accompanying images with her. You can read them yourself, if you want. They're pretty awful, though. I'm just trying to forget. I'm sorry I didn't go to you first, but I didn't know how you'd react. You have to swear you won't try to do anything."

"What did my mother say?" he asked, not heeding my request.

"She said to let her deal with it for now. You're not going to do something crazy, are you?"

"Victoria's the crazy one," said Edward. "I don't want to do something _crazy_, I want to track her down and _very sanely _dismember her. That she could have the gall to come at you like that—"

"But you're not going to do anything, right?" I clenched his hand, trying to ground him before he actually did something "very sane" but still totally stupid.

"I won't do anything without talking to you and Esme about it first," he said reluctantly. "That this should happen now, of all times…"

"Well," I said, "you know problems always come in threes."

"First James and now this," said Edward. "Gosh, I can't wait to find out what the third thing is going to be."

In spite of everything, I was overwhelmed by an irrational surge of joy. He'd forgotten to count the pregnancy as a problem.

* * *

**1. So, Victoria. Somehow, this nobody wound up as the villain of not one but _two_ interminable books, even though the Twiverse contains scores of infinitely more badass adversaries. _New Moon_ at least had the novelty of werewolves to lend it excitement, but _Eclipse_ was just a big boring mess from beginning to unsatisfying end. The reason _Eclipse_ sucked so much is that we could all plainly see what was going on at least several chapters before the book characters pulled their heads out of their asses. ****Victoria's plan was labored and nonsensical, and it only had a chance at succeeding because the Cullens, it turns out, are even dumber than she is. ****It was both frustrating and disappointing to be subjected to that horse-and-pony show which was clearly staged only because Smeyer had a wordcount to fill/couldn't think of anything better. Since I'm smashing the plots of the last three books into one story and reworking the Victoria conflict into something less yawningly illogical, that shouldn't be a problem here. **

**2. There is no such thing as a "libishomen" myth. Presumably this is a misspelling of _lobishomen_, a creature of South American lore. However, while they do indeed drink blood, I can't imagine Alice reading too much into stories about Brazilian lobishomen, who are supposed to be two-inch tall monkeys derived from Portuguese myths about werewolves. I am not sure why Smeyer fixated on the nothing-like-vampires lobishomen for Alice's super secret clue when even the most preliminary of searches turns up the demon-gods Paqok and Supay. Put those two together and you wind up with something that exactly resembles a godlike vampire who goes around impregnating human women and stealing their babies. Seriously, all I had to do was Google "South American vampire myths" for like, ten minutes and these guys just fell into my lap. I _didn't even have to try_.**

**Also, Alice is doing this _now_ instead of waiting till the last possible minute. This is because she cares about Bella and wants to do all in her power to ensure that her friend survives this pregnancy, rather than lounging around uselessly complaining. And because my Alice is in fact intelligent, she's going to do that thing Smeyer hates so much, _research_. Basically, my characters are all doing what the book characters do, but I'm not manufacturing drama by having them wait till it's an emergency before they make mental connections that were obvious to readers three pages in.**


End file.
